Love For Tender
by Ydnic Macnair
Summary: My take on the Marriage Law, not to be taken entirely seriously. Hermione Granger is not amused; Draco Malfoy is pragmatic, as usual; Corban Yaxley just wants to retire quietly to the country...but not everyone is happy with the post-war Wizarding World. EWE, Slytherin-DE-centric; polyfic featuring Draco/Hermione/Yaxley. COMPLETE!
1. Chapter 1

**LOVE FOR TENDER**

_Under a juniper-tree the bones sang, scattered and shining._

_We are glad to be scattered, we did little good to each other._

_Under a tree in the cool of the day, with the blessing of sand._

_Forgetting themselves and each other, united_

_in the quiet of the desert._

_T. S. Eliot_

_**Chapter 1 - **__**You won't take my **__**love for tender**_

Hermione Granger had no idea where she was when she woke up. Her mouth was dry and her head was pounding and to make matters worse there seemed to be an awful lot of ambient noise and light and movement.

Sadly, this state of affairs had become the norm for her over the past year.

She slowly opened her eyes to reveal buzzing overhead fluorescent lights, black-painted walls, and something that sounded like a Muggle cement mixer…but turned out, as she examined it through squinted eyes, to be a floor polishing machine. _I've passed out in that after-hours club, then_, she thought, _and now it's after-hours for it_, which likely meant sometime in the early afternoon, to judge by the harsh light glaring in through the unshuttered windows. The janitor seemed unaware that he had company, as he seemed rather intent on his work and also because the floor polisher was so horribly loud.

Sitting on the floor next to the beat-up and sagging black leather sofa where she'd crashed was a partially-empty drink graced by a few tiny, floating ice cubes. She grabbed the glass, heedless of germs or alcohol content, and guzzled down the contents, which turned out to be watery gin and tonic. _Better than nothing, and at least marginally healthy_, she thought.

The janitor finished the area near the couches then unplugged the machine and pushed it off down a hallway, which was some relief. She wished he'd have closed the blinds behind him, but as she didn't intend to stay here any longer than necessary, and was concerned that she might pass back out, it was just as well. She slowly sat up and took stock of the rest of her surroundings. There was a large bank of casement windows with a view of the rather nondescript street that she recalled Apparating to. Under the windows, there was a bar and a DJ station that she also recalled. The leather sofa on which she rested was one of three similar ones in the room. Next to the large bank of windows, there was a pair of battered green metal doors. There were light fixtures—currently unlit- on the matte black walls.

And Draco Malfoy was lounging on the second of the three couches, about three feet away from her, also looking rather discomfited at the amount of light in the room, although there was no spent drink on the floor near him.

"Granger?" he croaked, as their eyes made contact.

"Malfoy?" she said, as she took note of the purple beaded bag looped firmly on her wrist. It was missing a lot of its beading and had seen better days, but the Undetectable Extension Charm on it still held. She opened it up and reached in for her wand. It was still there.

"Should have told him to bloody go away," he muttered. "Sorry."

"Er…" she began, feeling decidedly un-intellectual. "That wouldn't have been very nice," she finally finished, after a rather long pause.

"I'm doing him enough of a favour that I don't have to be nice _all_ the bloody time," Malfoy said.

"Wait…is this _your_ club?"

"Of course it is. Note the green door, and the subtle lighting motif." She glanced at the light fixtures, which at closer inspection were, unsurprisingly, coiled snakes. "Everyone knows about the Silver Serpent, it's been open since the 1970s in one form or another. I can afford to be understated," he said, as he swung his legs over the side of the couch and slowly sat up. "If you need the loo, you may want to run there now before he starts cleaning it." He raised his wand and muttered _Accio Duo Evian_, and two water bottles zoomed out from behind the bar toward the couch. He caught them neatly in both hands and then tossed the second toward the couch where Hermione remained slumped. "Go on, I'll find the Hangover Potion while you're there, I'm fairly sure there's at least one bottle behind the bar."

She slowly stood up, her head still pounding. "Don't you need any?"

"I don't drink," he said, as she started off down the hall, first slowly, and then quicker, realizing that she was definitely in urgent need.

When she returned, having splashed a bit of water on her face and put her recalcitrant hair up in a scrunchie she'd found in a dusty corner of her bag, Draco sat at a table that he'd likely conjured, on which rested the two bottles of water, a potion bottle, and what appeared to be a box of breakfast pastries.

"Don't think those Muggles will miss these," and he gestured with his wand toward the window, which revealed a blue panel truck with SOHO DOUGHNUTS painted on it parked on the street outside, "At least they never have before." The front door was slightly ajar, and he jerked his wand to close it.

Hermione sat down and promptly downed the potion. Now was not the time to distrust Malfoy or worry about old school rivalry, especially since she felt very little like an educated woman at this point. She followed up the potion with a healthy slug of water and a large bite of chocolate doughnut, which was very good and very filling.

"Have as many as you want, looks like you can certainly afford to." Hermione had never gained the weight that she'd lost as a result of the war; the only advantage she saw to this is that Muggle club wear looked good on her.

"Thanks, Malfoy," she said, after she finished the first doughnut and selected a second. "You know, this may sound rather odd, but I thought the janitor looked a bit familiar…but he must be a Muggle, so I suppose not…"

"Of course he looks familiar, didn't he chase you down at the Ministry? Or at least that's what I recall you saying in the trials."

"Yaxley?" she asked, incredulous, as the sound of the floor polisher started again, this time, thankfully further away.

"The very same, he requested the day shift and I obliged him."

"Wait…do you…is this…are the…" Hermione wasn't sure exactly how to frame her next question. She recalled reading that Draco was overseeing a group of Death Eaters who'd recently been released on parole from Azkaban.

"Yes, all the parolees work here and live upstairs. I'm letting my parents deal with the mess at the Manor for the time being. My father hadn't bothered with this place since the early 80s, but I'd always wanted to run a club, so here I am." He paused for a moment and lifted his wand, then listened for the floor polisher to shut off, which it obligingly did. "Oi, Corban!" he said, in a slightly louder tone. "The pastries arrived!"

"You didn't actually steal them from the Muggles, did you," Hermione noted, after she took a long drink of water.

"Of course not—I have them delivered for him," and he nodded in the direction of Yaxley, who was clutching a large mug of some sort of beverage.

"Miss Granger," Yaxley said, and gave a perfunctory bow in her direction, before heading directly to the doughnut box and selecting a chocolate one. In fact, Hermione noted, they were all chocolate, which made a lot of sense, seeing as how Yaxley had spent quite a bit of time in Azkaban. Even without the Dementors, it was a depressing enough place.

For a short while, all of them ate their breakfast wordlessly. After he'd finished his third doughnut, Yaxley nodded to Draco and said, "Back to it, mate," and headed back down the hall. Shortly after that, the floor polisher started up again.

"So," Draco said, taking a long and considered look at Hermione, "whatever _should_ we do about that Marriage Law business? You seemed to have an awful lot of opinions on it last night. Well, this morning, honestly speaking."

"Can you?" Hermione said, after she'd paused to finish her second doughnut and the entire bottle of water. Draco raised his wand and sent another one hurtling through the air to land neatly next to the empty one.

"Can I what?" Draco replied, summoning another bottle of water for himself.

"Speak honestly."

"When I bloody feel like it, which I definitely do at the moment. But apparently you require a great deal of, shall we say, social lubrication to do so, or so Walden was telling me before he finally shut down the bar."

"Walden Macnair?" Hermione asked, feeling more and more outnumbered each moment.

"The very same; seems he's got a talent for bartending, although I only ever saw him do his…er, other business. _You_ obviously enjoyed his expertise quite a bit, though," and he looked pointedly at the nearly-empty glass on the floor. "He finally just carried you over to the couch; you were the last…er…witch standing—well, sort of—and it was long past our regular closing time." Hermione glanced over to the other couch, where she saw a dark-green tartan blanket that she hadn't previously noted crumpled up near where her feet had been. And her shoes were neatly arranged on the floor as well.

She dimly recalled a large bald man with a mustache, goatee and eye patch, who had rather obligingly provided a number of G&Ts to her. And she also dimly recalled ranting at him about the news that had dominated the _Daily Prophet _for the last year; all the while, he'd nodded and occasionally thrown in a random "Aye," or some such. She didn't recall any Galleons or even Muggle credit cards changing hands, though, even though she possessed both in abundance.

"Bloody hell…" she groaned.

"Consider those drinks on the house," Draco said.

"Er…thanks. I think." Hermione replied, after a long while, during which both of them finished their waters, and Draco consumed another doughnut.

"Least I could do," Draco said, as he stood up and stretched. "Seriously, though, Granger…we need to talk about this Law, because we both know that you and I and a number of the others here," and he swung his arm wide, presumably to indicate the rest of the building housing the paroled Death Eaters, "…are going to be intimately involved with it." He perched back down on the arm of the sofa.

"I'm considering relocating to America," Hermione blurted. "Or, er, possibly Australia. This law is utter bullshite."

"Such language," Draco said, holding his hand over his heart and giving an over-exaggerated mock swoon. "Not a horrid idea, though you'd better get on it. You've left things rather late—last I heard, the owls are going out next week."

"Bloody sodding hell…" Hermione groaned. She'd come home late one night from the Ministry after a series of meetings concerning the Birth Rate Crisis. The Marriage Law had been brought up by several aged Wizengamot members; apparently, it was not without precedent, although the last time it had been enacted was during the Black Plague.

Ironically, the same night, she'd discovered Ron, who'd proposed to her the previous month, entwined on her couch with Verity, the shop assistant from Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. She'd tossed both of them out, and sent Ron's belongings out the door behind them. The next morning, she'd given her notice at the Ministry and begun a months-long wizarding pub crawl, which had culminated in her doing Dragon Breath Shots in the Claw and Stang on Knockturn Alley the previous evening with a group of disreputable-looking witches and wizards and following them to the exclusive after-hours club, when they invited her.

"I mean to say, you're otherwise unoccupied, you've already quit the Ministry, and last I heard, Weaselbee as well."

"It's more like he quit me in favour of…" she let her voice drift off as she stared down at her stocking-covered feet. Ron had moved on from Verity rather quickly to a rotating selection of witches…including, ironically enough, Romilda Vane and Pansy Parkinson.

"I read the gossip columns, Granger, no need to rehash all that."

"Well, my job was even more tiresome than he was," she muttered. "Bloody bureaucratic imbeciles."

"If you want to be matched up with a perfect Pureblood prince, though," Draco said, tossing his hair as if to put himself in the running, "You're going to have to clean up your act a bit."

Hermione stood up. "I have absolutely no intention of being matched up with _any_ sort of Pureblood, much less any of those who reside within _these_ walls!" By the end of her sentence, she realized her voice had become loud and strident and the floor polisher noise had stopped, and there were two men standing in the hallway entrance staring at her. She closed her mouth quickly.

"All done, laddie, Walden and I are going out for a fry-up," Yaxley said, as the very slightest ghost of a smirk crossed his face. Macnair stood impassively but Hermione nevertheless felt he was somehow staring at her.

"Very well, you know the drill," Draco said, and walked over to the two men. He waved his wand over them quickly, nodded and said, "All good, see you later then."


	2. Chapter 2

AUTHOR'S NOTES: This is my first Marriage Law fic, because I needed a writing prompt badly. The title and chapter headings are from an old Elvis Costello song, and I'll run through all the lyrics, at least, so now you know what you're in for.

I'm still not sure of the pairing! If you review, please give me your suggestions on who Hermione (and others, of course) will end up with. I'm also in search of a graphic for this fic. It'll happen eventually.

I promise not to blather up here too much…on with the show!

_**Chapter 2 - **__**You can put your money where your mouth is but you're so unsure**_

"Granger, you may as well sit down," Draco said, after the two wizards had departed, and he'd returned to the table and Summoned two large tea mugs. "I'm fairly sure, given what I've heard _and_ read, that you don't have any particular place to be at the moment—other than possibly stopping by Gringotts, and I've already told you your tab's been comped."

Hermione fumed for a minute and then sat back down. Although she was loath to admit it, Malfoy was correct. Her plans for today had involved little more than sleeping off last night's debauchery and possibly ordering in takeaway.

"And for Merlin's sake, finish these," Draco added, gesturing to the remaining doughnuts. "Or I can order in some takeaway." He waved his wand toward the bar and a well-thumbed tri-fold menu with a stylized elephant on it landed neatly on the table.

"Are you doing Legilimency?" Hermione blurted.

"No," Draco said, as he glanced idly through the menu. "But you seem to be projecting. And if we're going to formulate a plan for all this, we'll need to eat."

"I never said I was interested in formulating a plan with you, Malfoy," Hermione said. But she didn't get up, and she accepted the menu when he handed it to her. "Chicken Tikka Masala and naan, please," she finally said. Draco reached in his trouser pocket, pulled out a mobile and a black Amex card, and ordered the food as Hermione sat, speechless.

"It'll be round in half an hour. If you want to run upstairs and have a shower, go down to the end of the hallway-the door's marked. My room is the first one on the right at the top of the landing. I'll open it for you," and he lifted his wand. "There's a stack of clean clothes in the closet, feel free to borrow something." Hermione looked down at her black bodycon dress, which was stained all down the front, as if she'd spilled a drink, or multiple drinks, or worse. She was fairly sure she had no changes of clothes in her bag, unfortunately.

"Go on," he said. "Lock the door behind you by tapping three times on the sink. Thorfinn has the room next to mine and he's a light sleeper."

Hermione stood up slowly, waved her wand in the direction of her black stilettos, Transfigured them into a pair of flip-flops, put them on, and then headed down the hall. Draco's room was industrial, modern, and rather stark, in keeping with the overall theme of the building, although a Slytherin banner (without wording) hung over the Eames sofa. The bathroom was of similar design, although in true wizarding fashion, it was rather spacious. There was an abundance of exquisite, expensive personal grooming items. She used quite a lot of the conditioner.

The only clothes that she could find that fit her were an old Slytherin Quidditch jersey (which she suspected he'd worn as a Second Year) and a pair of black leggings, although she did briefly consider Transfiguring what looked like an Armani suit into her size. When she emerged from Draco's room, feeling very much refreshed (the mirror had told her, "Brush 100 strokes, dear!") she saw nobody in the hallway, which was just fine with her. The delivery person was just departing, and the delicious smells of Indian food were wafting through the club-room.

"I really do wish the Ginger Minge could see you now," Draco drawled. "You are a vision."

"Oh, put a bloody sock in it, Malfoy," Hermione snarked, as she sat down and began to open her carton of food. "This was the only thing that fit me."

"Well, you could have Transfigured something. I'm all in favour of staying fashionably thin but you've taken it to the extreme. That was my first Quidditch jersey, you know."

"Ron used to say I needed to lose weight."

"Ronnikins is a bloody idiot," Draco riposted, as he opened his food. They were both silent as they ate the first couple of helpings, and then Draco added to his previous statement. "Pansy seems to think he's going to marry her...but…"

"You're kidding," Hermione chuckled. "If she does marry him, it'll be dissolved when the Law takes effect, unless they're really in love and they petition for special dispensation."

"I'm not sure she's in love with him as much as she's in love with his relative respectability as a war hero and all his Galleons…which is the thing that I most have the trouble wrapping my mind around," he said, as he picked up his water bottle and took a long drink. "She wants to open a boutique down Knockturn. Asked Father for a loan but…the well is pretty much dry there, until the renovations are done and the Connecticut house sale goes through."

"Well, considering Ron bought out Harry's initial investment in the shop, he's doing fairly well for himself," Hermione said.

"Come a long way from that _bin_…hasn't he?" Draco said, with just a bit of a smirk.

"It's really not _that_ bad at the Burrow," Hermione said. "It's just…very rustic, and it's much less crowded now." For whatever reason, she missed Sunday dinners there almost more than she missed Ron.

"Oh, I always figured it was the height of backcountry respectability," Draco said. "It was Father who had all those issues with Arthur Weasley, not me. Old school rivalry and all that." He stared at the serpent patch above Hermione's left breast. "Glad to see you're able to look past that sort of thing."

"Well, working at the Ministry cured me of that fairly quickly…and hanging out down Knockturn."

"Look…your side won," Draco said. "Slytherins are survivors; it's that simple, really. Plus, you're much more fun to talk with than Pans; the only thing she really cares about is fashion." He sat down his fork and pulled off a piece of naan. "Oh, by the way….Greg was here briefly last night and he said to tell you hello."

Hermione immediately blushed and took a drink of water to cover up her coughing fit.

"Don't worry, nobody knows anything about it, at least as far as I know. And, seeing as how I'm one of those pesky teetotalers, I _do_ hear all the gossip before it gets to the columns."

Late in the first month of Hermione's heartbreak-fueled pub crawl, she'd encountered Gregory Goyle working as a bouncer at the Claw and Stang in Knockturn Alley. Somehow, he'd managed to avoid Azkaban, and had spent a number of years under house arrest at Malfoy Manor, or so he told her as she lingered by the pub's doorway. They'd shared a cigarette and then she'd come back out and brought him a drink, because Mundungus Fletcher kept trying to get handsy with her.

Several shared drinks later; she concluded that she needed to take him home with her to fully exorcise the spirit of Ron Weasley from her flat. He was surprisingly willing. She wasn't looking for any deep conversations or any commitments. He provided no commentary, just very enthusiastic attentions and the occasional foot rub. She'd sent him a couple of owls over the past few months, when she felt particularly lonely, and he would dutifully show up, stay the night, and enjoy the mass quantities of lager and takeaway she provided him.

"That's…well, that's good, I guess," Hermione stammered.

"Oh, come now. He says you're good fun. I actually think he might be carrying a bit of a torch for you, but if it's the big, scary types you like, I'd recommend setting your sights on Walden, instead. His family have a hunting lodge and a castle, you know."

"It wasn't as much what I liked at first, it was more what…Ron wouldn't like," Hermione finally said, letting the comment about Macnair go unremarked.

"Well, did it work?" asked Draco.

_Hermione awoke and realized that she was alone in the bed that she and Ron had once shared. She heard the shower start to run and thought briefly of joining Greg in there—he was rather well-built and they'd enjoyed bathing together on a couple of occasions—but, she had an appointment at St Mungo's for her monthly contraceptive potion and she didn't want to show up late and have to wait for hours in the boring waiting room. So she did a couple of quick Cleaning Charms, threw on a casual robe, and headed out to the lounge to wait for him. She'd tell him it was time to leave and he'd leave; he was good about that._

_Just as she had started to pick up the Daily Prophet, someone knocked on the door, which was odd—she had very few callers and they all used the Floo Network. _

_It was Ron and he pushed his way into the lounge. He smelled as if he'd been sweating heavily, which was very unappealing. "Look, 'Mione…er, you didn't send along my Cannons training jersey and I'm going to the game and I really need it!"_

_"Ronald, I very seriously doubt that I missed anything when I…er, sent you along." She'd looked through the flat to make sure, in fact. Several times._

_"But, I don't have it!" he whined, as if she was supposed to care._

_"It's probably at the Burrow. Or at the store," she added, frowning. Somewhere in her mind, the noises of her shower stopping and a towel being taken off the rack registered, but she was so annoyed with Ron that she didn't pay attention._

"_But…I neeeeeed it," he whined again. And then the bedroom door opened, and Greg came through, a towel (barely) wrapped around his middle._

"_Harmony," (which was what Greg called her, probably because he couldn't actually pronounce her name, but she liked it nevertheless), "Ya want to go down the pub to get some…"_

"_GOYLE?!" Ron yelled. "WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING HERE?!"_

"Oh, you could say that," Hermione said, as she recalled how she had to levitate the unconscious Ron up and send him through the fireplace. Molly hadn't been happy, but George had snickered and later that night, sent her an owl with a box of (non-WWW) chocolates and a note reading "My brother is a fool."

"Look. I have a proposition for you," Draco said, and then held up his hand. "Before you get any ideas- not that type of proposition, because I simply _can't_ help but notice that you like your wizards in extra-large sizes…."

"Oh, do shut up, Draco," Hermione said, before she registered that she'd not called him by his surname. "I mean…Malfoy."

"As long as we're on a first-name basis, 'Harmony,' Draco began, "My idea is this. All the Ministry cares about, truly, is raising the birth rate as soon as possible…and eventually their tax revenues, I presume." He paused.

"I should think they're also somewhat concerned about genetic diversity," Hermione added.

"What?" Draco asked. "Is that some sort of Muggle business?"

"You've got a mobile, I figured you might have gotten some education in things Muggle along with it," and she gestured to his phone, sitting on the table.

"Oh…that. Father has a Mu—Muggleborn assistant who handles all that sort of thing. I find it rather convenient, and when the Aurors come for inspection it does help make my case that I've fully reformed," and he winked at her.

"But you were just about to say…."

"Sorry, Granger. Old habits and all that. What's this diversity business, then?"

"Well, as you have probably noticed, extreme inbreeding is Very Bad and results in such things as Squibs and such intellectual giants as…well, as Greg."

"And Vince," Draco added. "Vince's family was well-known for marrying their first cousins."

"It's not that I don't like Greg. It's just that, well, he's rather more of a physical being, you know. So you see, some of the more progressive members of the Wizengamot have figured out the logical end-point of, er, all these single-branched family trees and are likely trying to fix that problem. In fact, I suspect it's one of the causes of the Birth Rate Crisis to begin with." Hermione recalled sending a memo to that effect to her supervisor, who had promptly ignored it. It was one thing to hire the Golden Trio's Brain Trust to adorn his department; it was another thing to actually take advice from a Muggleborn chit.

"I see," Draco said, tapping his finger on his chin. "You'll have to explain more about that to me later…don't mean to change topics, but we do rather have a potential emotional crisis on our hands as well. We simply _can't_ have a bunch of forced marriages and miserable witches and wizards running round. Morale is bad enough! Arranged Pureblood marriages always took compatibility issues into account. My Father had started making inquiries to Mr Greengrass about his daughters; I rather liked them…." He reached over and put his mobile and credit card back in his pocket. "I suggest that we hold an informal mixer, here at the Serpent, to hasten things along, so that those of us who don't wish to be, er, assigned a dance partner, can at the very least have a half-decent existing relationship, or the possibility of one, to hold those Ministry vultures off."

"Yes, there's a clause, the one that I suppose….Ronald and Pansy might use, although they are both Purebloods and it might not fly…but, if a couple is already engaged, the Ministry will consider not breaking the engagement, as long as you follow through with a wedding in less than a year from the deadline, and submit to regular fertility testing." It was that clause, she recalled, that for whatever reason had particularly incensed her the previous night, and that she had ranted about at length to Macnair. (He'd muttered something that had sounded an awful lot like "_I know I dinna want some Ministry plonker messin' with me todger!"_ as he handed her yet another G&T.)

"Well, we only have a week, 'Harmony,' we'd best get to planning. And if I were you, I'd decide if you're interested in any of us before we have the party, that way you can concentrate more on being a gracious hostess…."

"I don't recall agreeing to be _any_ sort of hostess," Hermione said, sticking her tongue out at him.

"Oh, who better, Miss Golden Trio of the Sterling Reputation? All that slumming down Knockturn has so far managed to escape the notice of Mr and Mrs Wizarding Smith…but it would most certainly be a shame if I were to send an anonymous letter to the Prophet's gossip column…."

"I can't believe you'd stoop to blackmail." Hermione started to stand up, but Draco held up his hands. "I wouldn't really do that. Look. I don't often say this, but I'm desperate and I need your help, or else I'll be forcibly shackled to some…background Hufflepuff!"

Hermione started giggling at the mental image, and then Draco joined in and by the time Yaxley and Macnair returned, they were in the midst of a fit of helpless laughter.

"What's going on here, mate?" Yaxley asked, chuckling a bit.

"Oh….Malfoy here has a creature problem," Hermione managed to stammer out, before they started laughing again.

"I could help ye with that," Macnair muttered quietly.


	3. Chapter 3

AUTHOR'S NOTES:

I'm in desperate need of a graphic for this fic. If you are good with graphics, PLEASE send me a PM. (I have a go-to graphics person who is not available ATM. Thanks!)

The pairing is still up in the air, but I have had one vote for Dramione. I'll take that under consideration, of course. Let's just say, for now, that all the unmarried Slytherin/DEs are on the table, although that is subject to change at any time.

Fancasts! We have fancasts. Draco, Hermione, Ron, Greg Goyle and Lucius Malfoy (and, of course, Harry and Ginny) are just as they appear in the films. My Macnair is Joe Manganiello (from True Blood and Magic Mike). Thorfinn Rowle is Rusty Coones (from Sons of Anarchy). I'm still in search of a Yaxley, but for now, the film one will do. (Further characters will be depicted as they are mentioned.)

_**Chapter 3 - **__**I could be a miser or a big spender**_

"Well, we don't really need…er, _that_ permanent of a fix," Hermione finally managed, after she was able to calm down a bit. She closed up her food carton and looked around for a rubbish bin.

"Yes, yes, think of all the poor defenseless badgers," Draco interjected. "Speak for yourself, Granger—you're going to be extremely popular over the next few months, whereas I'm looking at a possible lifetime of ignominious misery. Malfoys, technically speaking, aren't supposed to divorce." He waved his wand idly and Vanished the napkins and used cutlery from the table.

"Always a way around that, though, ask yer father," Macnair said, again quietly, but he was chuckling just a bit as he said it. "And badgers arenae defenseless." He approached the table and took the last remaining piece of Draco's naan.

"I was planning to eat that, Walden!" snapped Draco. "Didn't you just have a fry-up?"

"It was a bit too greasy," Yaxley interjected. "Not going ta that cafe again. May as well check us now, Draco," he added.

Draco stood up and muttered a spell and waved his wand over the two men. "Very good," he nodded. "Thanks for cooperating; I despise that bloody Dawlish and I don't want to give him any reason to stay here longer than necessary."

"I've never understood how he's managed to keep his position," Hermione, the former Magical Law Enforcement employee, added.

"Nobody does, he may as well work for the Department of Mysteries," Draco said, as he sat back down and Summoned a tea mug. "Tea, Granger?" She nodded and he Summoned another mug. "Walden, Corban?" he finally asked, and they both nodded and sat down at the table, and mugs appeared at their places. A final wand wave produced a tea pot, which obligingly poured servings for all. 

After they'd sipped at their tea a bit, Draco said, "We're going to have an event…or possibly several events, depending on timing…sometime in the next week or so, which will pre-empt our usual festivities."

Hermione spoke up. "And I think it might be wise to do…well, a little redecorating."

"What's wrong with the decorating, Miss Granger?" Yaxley asked. "And do ya mind at all if I have the rest o' yer food?" He gestured at the carton of Tikka Masala.

"Well, it's lovely and welcoming…if you're a Slytherin," Hermione replied. "And yes, go right ahead, Mr Yaxley."

"Och, what's wrong with Slytherins?" Macnair asked. "Looks like ye dinna have a problem with us," and he looked directly at her chest. Draco's jersey was just a hair too small for even her slight frame. "And thanks a lot, Corban; I was going ta ask her for that."

"Not all you were going to ask her," Yaxley muttered, as he accepted the fork that Draco summoned for him, and began digging into the food post-haste.

"Never mind about that," Macnair said, as he reached over and grabbed Draco's leftovers, and then gave him a very pointed look, until Draco grudgingly provided him with a fork.

Hermione, thanks to the food, tea and (mostly) the Hangover Potion, was feeling much more alert every second and snapped, "What were you going to ask me, Mr Macnair?"

There was a pause while Macnair finished the rest of Draco's Chicken Vindaloo, and then he looked at Yaxley and said, "I told ye never mind about that, Corban, unless ye want me to tell her what ye said." 

"Pardon," Hermione interjected, "But I'd like to be involved in this conversation if it's concerning me!" 

"Walden, Corban…you're rather putting the carriage before the thestral, aren't you? As I was _attempting_ to say before I was so rudely interrupted, _and_ my leftovers devoured, by you savages….we're going to have an event that will pre-empt our usual festivities as well as hopefully pre-empting some of this Marriage Law rubbish." Draco paused, and took another sip of tea. "And I'll need everyone's cooperation for this." Just as he took a breath to begin his next sentence, a booming voice echoed through the club.

"Oi, is there any food left?" 

"Nay, Thorfinn, ye're late as usual," Macnair snapped. 

"Sod off, Walden." Rowle stalked over to the DJ station and fiddled around with what appeared to Hermione's eyes to be antique 78s (which were the wizarding world standard), and then slapped a record on the gramophone. The pounding sounds of the Weird Sisters' "Do the Hippogriff" began to echo through the club. Hermione couldn't help herself and began giggling again, recalling how she and Viktor had enjoyed dancing at the Yule Ball, all those years ago. She caught Draco's eye and he winked at her. Meanwhile, Macnair had stood up and was stalking in Rowle's direction, muttering something along the lines of, "Ye _know_ how much I hate this bloody song, Thorfinn—'m gonna stuff that record up yer bleedin'…."

With a screech, the record abruptly stopped. Draco was standing up and pointing his wand directly at Rowle. "Thorfinn! For the last bloody time, stop antagonizing Walden! The both of you need to sit down before I force you to drink Dreamless Sleep for the next solid week. I don't want to put on this soiree with just Roddy, Theo and Augustus to help me!"

"What about Travers and Selwyn, you always seem to forget about them?" Rowle pointed out.

"_Everyone_ forgets about them! Now bloody sit down!" Draco roared, as he slashed his wand in the air and created a chair for Rowle, who sat down, but not before nodding in Hermione's direction and saying, "Nice jersey, Miss Granger." He then grabbed the box of doughnuts, opened it and began devouring two at once. Macnair slowly ambled over and sat back down as well.

Draco cleared his throat. "We're having a semi-casual mixer…or possibly more than one, we are talking about five hundred witches and wizards, of course…the purpose is to, ostensibly, celebrate the enacting of the Marriage Law, but the _actual_ purpose of it, of course, is to get likely couples paired up quickly so that we won't have to be subject to all the Ministry's sodding rules or get forced into marriages without warning."

"Aren't we all supposed to get paired up with Mudbloods, then?" Rowle said, after he'd finished the remainder of the doughnuts and politely belched into his handkerchief.

"Was that necessary, Mr Rowle?" Hermione said, sharply.

"Thorfinn, watch your bloody language!" Draco snapped. "Yes. One of the stipulations is that, er, Muggleborns and Purebloods are to be paired up as much as possible…although my ex has set her cap for…well, sort of a Pureblood, a _king_, you might say…" he looked at Hermione and raised his eyebrows. 

"As far as I'm concerned, he was a pretender to that title," Hermione said, and the rest of the table gasped, nearly in unison.

"Er….Miss Granger…" Yaxley began. "We…er….that's what we call the former…ya know, the Dark Lord."

"Oh!" she said, and then paused for a minute. "That's actually quite appropriate when one thinks about it. Who started that?"

"My father," Draco said. "He's writing his memoirs." He reached in his pocket and withdrew a very elaborate pocket watch. "And…come to think of it, he should be here momentarily—he's going to be bankrolling this function…"

"I thought you said 'the well was dry', or some such," Hermione said, _sotto voce_, in Draco's direction, after she had taken another sip of tea.

"This event takes priority over…other things," Draco replied, in a similar fashion, before he stood up. "I'll just…er, go in and greet him, shall I? Attempt to be civilized, you lot…well, except you, _Harmony_, we all know that you're polite even when you're sozzled, or so Walden says…" He let his voice trail off as he walked down the hall. 

Hermione didn't react to Draco's statement, but she did make sure her wand was within easy reach.

After several minutes during which nobody actually looked at each other, Hermione broke the silence.

"Mr Macnair, may I have a word?" Rowle and Yaxley immediately began cat-calling, and Hermione stood up and cast a nonverbal Silencio at both of them. "I didn't ask for input from either of you. Mr Macnair, if you please?" and she walked over to the far corner of the room, past the DJ station, and perched on the window ledge. "There really needs to be much more in the way of seating here before this ridiculous party," she muttered. Macnair followed her, and she cast a silent Muffliato around both of them. He stood opposite her, hands in his trouser pockets. He was wearing non-descript black clothing, much like what one would expect a Muggle bartender to wear, _which is likely on purpose_, Hermione thought, considering that his sheer bulk and shaved head made him look a bit fearsome, much like a security guard or similar. She wondered, idly, who the bouncer was at the club, as she didn't recall—her companions of the previous evening, one of whom she was almost positive had been a Snatcher, had been waved in, and she'd just followed them and headed straight to the bar, where Macnair (who she hadn't recognized, as the shaved head was a recent addition) had started serving her drinks.

"What do ye want to ask me, lass?" he rumbled, interrupting her reverie.

"Oh! I rather thought _you_ wanted to ask _me_ something," she began. "Or so Mr Yaxley said." 

"Aye, I want ta offer for ye," he said, and looked her straight in the eye.

"Offer…_**what**_?!" _Good thing I did that Muffliato_, she thought. 

"Well, I dinna know yer father, so I'm asking ye," he said.

"I….I'm, er, very flattered, but…I….well. I hadn't given any thought to….er…" _Oh bloody hell_, she thought. Literally bloody…she recalled his profession. His reputation had still been notorious at the Ministry even when she'd worked there; her supervisor was often fond of telling his flunkies that if they didn't shape up he'd call in the executioner, even though he was in Azkaban at that point.

"I'm gonna need ye to gain a little weight before we're married, lassie," he began. "When I picked ye up last night ye were lighter than me wand used ta be and that's nae healthy for breedin'. Ye still have a nice round arse, though," he added.

"Er…thank you...thank you for, er, putting me on the couch," she said, weakly, attempting to ignore the rather backhanded compliments, and looked at the crumpled tartan blanket. "You…er, didn't conjure that, did you?"

"Canna. Me wand was snapped and I havenae been given a new one yet. I keep a couple o' blankets behind the bar for emergencies," he said, still looking directly in her eyes.

"I, er. I very much thank you for er…for both your offer and for assisting me last evening, but, I've got to help plan this soiree and I can't _possibly_ make any sort of decision about who I'll be pairing up with until…er, all that's wrapped up, you know." Hermione looked down at her flip-flops. _If Ron or Harry catches wind of this_….she thought wryly. Of course, Ron already knew about her dalliance with Goyle, and was probably going to marry Pansy…which was weird and rather suspect in itself, and Harry and Ginny had got married four years ago, so they were exempt from the Law, as well as being very busy with their children, especially their new daughter Lily. So in short, none of them were likely to be involved in the pre-Marriage Law party…but she didn't put it past Draco to say something about it, if he found out. And Yaxley and Macnair clearly had already discussed her marriage potential while they were out getting their unsatisfying brunch.

"Er…was Mr Yaxley going to ask me the same thing as you, by chance?" she said, almost unnecessarily.

"Och, aye, but I'm a much better choice for ye, me father was a Gryffindor and we have a family castle," he said, and he winked at her, which, considering his eye patch, was rather disconcerting.

She could not deny that she was extremely curious about what he'd said, but she just could not bring herself to even entertain the possibility. Macnair was _entirely_ unsuitable…not just because of his age, although she'd noticed that in the wizarding community, That Sort of Thing was not quite as much of an issue as in the Muggle world because of the tendency to longevity among wizards…but because she remembered something from the trials….

"Er, aren't you already married?" she blurted.

"Nay, lass. The Pretender killed me wife durin' the war." Macnair's face was impassive.

"Oh! I'm ….I'm so sorry," she said. "I didn't know." Clearly, her memory was faulty, but then again, she'd not been paying that much attention to the parts of the trials that did not directly involve her.

"I havena been involved with anyone since then," he continued, quietly. "And we were talkin' an awful lot about fertility and marriage and such last night, and ye are…well." He cleared his throat. "I, er…I willna say the rest. Ye can be takin' down Snape's spell now if ye want." He turned away and walked back to the table. Hermione jerked her wand once and then went over and sat on the couch where she'd slept last night and sat down heavily, idly fiddling with the tartan blanket.


	4. Chapter 4

AUTHOR'S NOTES:

Well, one eligible bachelor down (or, is he?). To lakelady8425, note that he was mostly forthcoming under Muffliato, of course.

Thank you to all who have read, reviewed, favorited and followed this story so far. I appreciate it! As for pairings, I have one vote for Dramione and one vote for….any other DE, preferably a smart one.

On with the show!

_**Chapter 4 - **__**But you might get much more than you bargained for**_

Hermione sat on the couch for what seemed like a rather long time after that, staring alternately into space and out of the front window. During that time, several lorries pulled up to the kerb, idled, were unloaded, and then drove away. No deliveries came to the Silver Serpent, though—she assumed that supplies were brought in by magic, although she was still trying to ascertain exactly how magical the place was. Were there any sort of Apparition wards? How was Draco's father getting in? Did he have a wand? She recalled reading the trial testimony about Lucius Malfoy's wand and how Voldemort had broken it out of its holder, and how, apparently, order had to be brought to the courtroom because every single witch and wizard had cried out when they heard the tale.

And Macnair's wand had been snapped—although she knew there was some sort of program in the works for highly restricted wands to be distributed to some of the parolees. _How exactly would that work_, she mused…until loud pounding sounds interspersed with rather mean-spirited laughter interrupted her thoughts, and she realized she'd taken down the Muffliato but not the Silencios, and she jumped up and walked over to the table.

Rowle, whose face was red, was the source of the pounding noises. Macnair was alternately laughing and needling him.

"I like ye much better this way, laddie, wish ye'd been as quiet in Azkaban," he said. "And Yax, looks like ye're not going to get a chance to ask the lass anythin'…"

"Sorry!" Hermione said, approaching the table all while attempting to not chortle at "Yax." "_Finite_!"

"…WALDEN…YOU WANKER…" both Rowle and Yaxley said, at very nearly the same time, and Hermione spluttered and began laughing in earnest, and Macnair joined in, and once Yaxley had recovered, so did he. Rowle, however, just sat there, still looking annoyed, until the laughter had died down a bit.

"Mr Rowle and Mr Yaxley, I'm terribly sorry," she began, and Yaxley held up his hand. "Not a problem, not at all…now, if ya'd like, we can go talk now that ye're done with Walden."

"Then you can save the best for last," Rowle said, with a wink at Hermione; clearly he'd figured out that something was up and that he needed to participate straightaway. _My_, she thought, _had I known that I could get this much male attention by simply wearing a Slytherin jersey I'd have done it years ago_.

"I thought that there were others here, Nott…and Rookwood, and Lestrange, was it?" she asked. "Oh, and those other two, the ones that everyone forgets?"

"Travers and Selwyn," Yaxley said. "I wouldn't concern yourself overly with them. They do the door security."

_That answers that question_, she thought. "All right, Mr Yaxley, come along then," Hermione said, feeling rather like she should be asking him for his CV as she ushered him over to the same corner where she'd spoken with Macnair. Once again, she perched on the windowsill and Yaxley faced her. She cast Muffliato as she stared at him. He had a rather craggy, distinguished face and blond hair pulled back in a braided queue. He, too, was wearing non-descript black clothing, and she concluded that it was quite likely meant to be a uniform…although, thankfully, none of the parolees were wearing name badges. _Of course, had Macnair been wearing one last night_, she thought, _I might well have run from the place…and I'm still not convinced that I should be participating in any of this!_

Yaxley cleared his throat. "Miss Granger," he began. "I'm certain that Walden already told ya what I was planning to ask."

"I figured it out all on my own," Hermione said. She didn't know much about him, really. Had things been different, she might well have been working in his Ministry department. There had been a rumour, though… something about him attempting to track her down during the Horcrux hunt.

"Indeed," he said. "That doesn't surprise me."

"Well…er…did you want an answer?" she said. "No…wait. I'd like an answer from _you_. Did you go to my house….my parents' house that is, looking for me, during the war?"

He gave a short, sharp nod.

"What were you hoping to gain from that?" she asked, realizing after she did that it was a pointless question.

"I wasn't hoping to gain anything but favour," he finally answered.

"And is that what you're hoping to gain from me now?" she asked.

"Am I being that obvious?" he drawled. "Look, girlie, I want to take ya to bed; I don't give a damn about that blood purity bullshite anymore. I was in prison for a long time and none of my bloody consorts are interested in me now that I have a record and a rubbish job. If I have ta marry ya to get a piece of that arse of yers…then so be it."

"Well, _that's_ romantic," Hermione said, scowling a bit.

"I guess that means no, huh?"

"You may safely assume that, Mr Yaxley," Hermione said, as she twirled her wand around and dispelled the Muffliato. She thought about looking out the window again, but did not wish to turn her back on Yaxley; she merely waited for him to walk back to the table. Macnair said, "Down in flames, eh, Corban?" Yaxley grunted back at him and picked up his teacup. "Is it my turn, then, Miss Granger?" Rowle asked.

"It won't ever be _your_ turn. You called me a Mudblood," she said, as she walked back to the table.

"I did not! I used the word, but I didn't call _you_ that," Rowle riposted.

"You may as well have," Hermione said, as she sat back down at the table and ran her wand over her teacup.

"Why are you bothering with that when none of us can do any magic?" Rowle asked, quietly.

"None…at all?" Hermione asked.

"Granger, it is part of the condition for their parole. I've got charms set in all the walls to dampen wandless abilities and all the parolees have magic-binding charms on them besides. The only magical way in here is by the Floo in the kitchen, and it's only connected to the Manor…and it's monitored by the Floo Regulation Panel. There's an Apparition point out back where the Aurors come when they visit. And furthermore, you and I are the only ones here carrying wands at the moment, and it'll be staying that way for at least a few more months," Draco said, as he slowly strolled back to the table. "Oh, and _do_ be sure to greet my father."

Hermione stood up and turned around. Although she was used to the humbled version of Lucius Malfoy from the later days of the war, and then the trials and the _Prophet_ articles, it was nevertheless disconcerting to see him in person. He'd managed to clean his hair up a bit—it was tied back in a queue. Like the other Death Eaters, he wore all black, with none of the former adornments for which he'd been famous. His clothes, however, were simple—a suit jacket and trousers with a black shirt and tie. They appeared to be neither bespoke nor upmarket. He was carrying a cane—well, he was leaning on it, as he didn't look at all vigorous—and it did not have a snake-head atop it.

"Miss Granger," Lucius said, as he gave a short bow in her direction.

"Mr Malfoy," Hermione said, giving a similar nod. She certainly wasn't going to go and shake hands with him, so she sat back down.

"Father has agreed to provide the financial backing for our soiree, as well as sending out all the invitations," Draco began, as soon as Mr Malfoy was seated at the table, in between Yaxley and Macnair.

"How do you know where to send the invitations?" asked Hermione.

"I'm glad you asked that," Draco said, with a smirk in her direction. "I happen to have a close friend in the new Department of Marriage Law Regulation, and she's provided me with the preliminary list. That's how I knew that there are potentially five hundred attendees." He paused to refill everyone's tea mugs and Summon a mug for his father, who looked rather uncomfortable. Lucius sat there staring at the tea until Macnair put a hand on his shoulder and said, quietly, "Go on, Luce, have a cuppa—or I can get ye somethin' stronger."

"I'd appreciate a brandy," Lucius muttered, looking at his hands. Macnair obligingly got up and walked over to the bar. Draco had picked up his wand, expecting to Summon the drink, but quickly sat it down; only Hermione noticed that he did so—the other two wizards were looking at Lucius with expressions of pity, not that any of them were much better off.

_And not that they didn't deserve humiliation_, Hermione thought, nastily. Many witches and wizards had chosen to quickly move on from the unpleasantness of the occupation government and the war. Mostly, it was Not Done to discuss such subjects publicly, although there had been more than a few unpleasant incidents on Diagon Alley and in Hogsmeade when the first of the Death Eaters, Snatchers, and sympathizers had been paroled.

"So…I'm thinking we divide the pool by half, and have the first soiree on Friday…." Draco began. "Or, what do you think, _Harmony_, should we just throw one big to-do on Saturday and have done?

"Son, Miss Granger's name is from Shakespeare; you were taught better than that," Lucius said, again very quietly.

"It's a private joke, Father—right, _Hermione_?"

"Of course it is, _Draco_," she replied, resisting the impulse to give him a silly made-up-on-the-spot pet name. "And I think we should definitely have one big to-do, and possibly a follow-up drinks brunch on Sunday. Between us I'm certain we can enlarge this space as much as needed…" and then she realized that Yaxley was smirking. _Had he retreated into pre-adolescence?_ she thought.

"I'd like to watch ya two enlarge—somethin'-between ya," Yaxley muttered.

"Really!" Hermione said. "Look, is there anything else I need to do here today, or can I just come back on Friday for the preparations?"

"Well, I suppose you could leave, although I shall be bereft of your presence once you depart," Draco said, holding his hand over his chest and giving yet another mock-swoon. He stood up. "I will escort you out, of course." He paused, and after they'd left the main room, he asked, "Do you have a Floo connection at your home?"

"You told me that the Floo here was only connected to…your father's house," Hermione said, as she walked down the hall next to him.

"I lied," Draco said. "You can come through the Floo rather than—however it was you got here yesterday." He escorted her through a doorway at the end of the hall, which led into a rather spacious kitchen, complete with fireplace.

"Side-along from Knockturn with some bloke who looked a lot like a Snatcher," Hermione said.

"My, how times have changed," and he took her hand, kissed it, and bowed. "And do feel free to keep my jersey with my compliments. See you Friday, Granger."


	5. Chapter 5

AUTHOR'S NOTES:

Thank you to all who have read, reviewed, favorited and followed this story so far. I appreciate it.

Disclaimer: Not sure if we still need these, but to all y'alls great surprise, I'm sure, I do not own Harry Potter.

Pairing and other notes are at the end of the chapter, because I got rambly. On with the show!

_**Chapter 5 - **__**Check in on a checkmate**__**  
**_

When Hermione stepped out of the Floo into her flat, she waved her wand quickly around, warding it against any kind of intrusion (even by owl) and headed straight to bed, where she slept for nearly fifteen straight hours. She was used to losing time these days; no Time-Turner required.

When she awoke at around noon on Sunday—feeling quite rested for the first time in months—she tackled the mess in her flat by performing cleaning and laundry spells, tossed out redundant parchment (including a stack of letters from Ron), and sent out some owls that were long overdue. She did, however, order in Chinese takeaway as cooking was unlikely to ever be her strong suit. Later that day, as she sorted through the massive pile of unread books on her nightstand, and sent several books hurtling toward the bookcase, she gave an idle thought to owling Greg, but decided against it.

Somehow, she noted, as she flipped through her Gringotts and Barclays statements, it had become early February. The Ron Incident had happened in early March the previous year and her pay from the Ministry had stopped a month after she'd left. Her accounts, though, thanks to the reward that accompanied the Order of Merlin, First Class, and the trust fund her parents had set up for her, were still in the black, which was good. She'd not really been shopping or spending money on any day-to-day items, after all, other than takeaway and drinks, and rent for the flat was on auto-draft.

Not long after the war, she'd traveled to Australia along with Bill Weasley and Kingsley Shacklebolt, who were only too glad to do a favour for her (as well as take a well-deserved holiday). Her parents were mildly annoyed about the Memory Charm at first, but once the extremely reassuring Kingsley had explained what Hermione had done for them, they'd eventually understood and forgave her. (Bill Weasley had taken her aside at some point during that trip and told her the rumour about Yaxley visiting her house; she chose not to share that with her parents.)

However, they decided they actually did enjoy their life in Australia and chose to remain there; thus Hermione had been given the Hampstead Garden house to sell. She deposited the proceeds in a flexible cash ISA at Barclays, and she'd made yearly trips to visit them ever since—although she did travel on British Airways (because International Portkeys were not her favourite)—and this year's trip had not yet occurred, due to her extreme distraction.

When the owl carrying the Evening Prophet arrived at the window, she let it in, and was gratified to notice that it did not wait to be paid. At some point over the last year she'd renewed her subscription, then, which was good.

Flipping through pages of relatively mundane news, she noted an ad for a new Diagon Alley establishment called Davis' Day Spa, and decided to send an owl in for an appointment as soon as possible. It wouldn't do to look frowzy._ I'll also need to purchase some new dress robes_, she mused, as she was certain none of hers fit, and the Muggle club wear that had been her staple for the past few months really needed to be retired…as did her rather dilapidated beaded bag.

Noting that several of the parchments she'd disposed of were from Harry and Ginny, or a combination of both, she decided to send an owl to Ginny, to see if she'd be interested in a Witches' Day Out. Given that she was now a mother of three, but one with a very participatory grandmother, chances would likely be good.

Although Hermione had been accused on numerous occasions—most usually by the other two-thirds of the Golden Trio—of overthinking, at no point during all her rather mundane chores did she give a thought to the two marriage proposals she'd already received or the others that she was likely to receive. Some things were best left un-contemplated for the time being.

And thus Monday of a new week dawned, and Hermione felt something akin to optimism for the first time since she'd opened the door on the lurid sight of Ron and Verity. (An empty bottle of Ogden's sat on the table and robes had been discarded on the floor; not for the first time did she wonder why Ron hadn't taken the witch elsewhere.)

* * *

"Ginny!" Hermione shouted, as the red-haired witch appeared in the Apparition courtyard adjacent to Diagon Alley.

"It was a little difficult to get away," Ginny said, as they hugged. "Oh, who am I fooling? Mum will take any excuse to watch the kids. Your owl couldn't have come at a better time; I was nearly at the end of my rope." Ginny had retired from the Holyhead Harpies the year before, and had a job lined up to do Quidditch commentary when the season started, so they'd let their au pair go. Pausing for a moment, Ginny held Hermione at arm's length. "You have seriously lost weight, Hermione! That can't be good."

"I never gained the weight that I lost during the war back; I just wore baggy clothes for a while there," Hermione said, as they began to head down the street toward the day spa, which had replaced the long-defunct Gambol and Japes joke shop. By mutual agreement, they did not look at Weasley's Wizard Wheezes.

"Your brother always said I needed to lose weight, anyway," Hermione added, after they had passed the garish shop (although out of the corner of her eye she noted a display of brightly colored boxes and a sign that read "We've Been Avoiding The Marriage Law For Years—Find Out How!")

"As every other member of my family has said to you—other than the git in question—he's an idiot," Ginny said, with a scowl. "Have you heard who he's dating now? "

"You might say I have a bit of inside information on that," Hermione answered.

"And this Marriage Law! Ronnikins talked to Dad last night. He's going to offer for the cow, but…I wonder how that is going to work, because, she's, you know…"

"Oh, there's a clause in the law, he'll be able to go ahead—or rather, _she'll_ be able to go ahead with _her_ plans," Hermione said.

"You must know all about this because of your Ministry job…but wait," Ginny said. "Didn't I hear that you quit?"

Hermione nodded.

"Then how do you…." Ginny paused, her hand on the spa door. "Oh. Hello there, Malfoy," she said.

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Potter, Miss Granger," Draco said. "Allow me," and he stepped nimbly around Ginny and opened the door for both of them.

"What are you doing here?" Ginny asked, as the trio entered the spa's relaxing lobby, which featured neutral colors, a trickling waterfall, light, innocuous music, and comfortable couches. An effortlessly graceful witch sat behind a counter that was fashioned to look like the Newgrange entrance stone.

"Probably much the same thing you're doing here," Draco replied, with a smile, as an attractive witch entered the lobby area through an unmarked door and beckoned in his direction. "See you later, Mrs. Potter, and _Harmony_, if it's possible for you to drop by on Thursday rather than Friday, I'd appreciate it. Good day," he said.

"What the hell was that all about?" Ginny whispered. It was very quiet in the room and they'd not yet checked in at the front counter.

"_That_ is why I wanted to talk to you—alone," Hermione whispered back, as she waved brightly at the receptionist. "Miss Granger and Mrs Potter, here for our 11:00?" she said, in a louder tone.

* * *

As they sat in the sauna and then relaxed in the salt cave, Hermione explained everything that had been going on for the last year. Although Ginny was definitely aware of Ron's perfidy, she wasn't aware of the circumstances of how it had all begun, so she was predictably mad at both Ron and Verity.

"I always thought something was off with her," she said. "And I apologize for my brother. Again!"

"Oh, he's attempted to apologize but I've not let him," Hermione replied, with a wry smirk.

"He did mention something about…er, someone he saw at your flat…." Ginny began.

"You mean Greg, of course," Hermione said, as she stood up and stretched. "Yes, we've been seeing each other on a very casual basis for a while. It's not serious nor will it ever be."

"Brother Dear was pretty annoyed, but I told him he had absolutely no room to complain about anything, after which he attempted to get sympathy from Harry, but no joy for him there either!" Ginny laughed. "Whoever you want to date is your business. I went out with Corner, after all."

"That's true, he was fairly awful," Hermione said. "Back then at least. Of course…a lot has changed since the war…."

"So what _was_ Malfoy talking about, anyway?" Ginny said, as she stood up and donned her robe in preparation for heading to the mani/pedi room.

"Oh. That." Hermione stood up and put on her robe, and started to walk toward the door.

"Yes, _that_, you're not going to put me off by blathering about my brother for hours no matter how horrible he was!"

"Well…I'm helping Malfoy with something having to do with the Marriage Law," Hermione finally said, as she put her hand on the door.

"You're not _marrying_ him, are you?" Ginny had a way of getting right to the point.

"Not at the moment, no," Hermione said. "But I have received proposals from paroled Death Eaters already. I suspect there may be more en route."

"All right, that's it. Let's get finished here and then go to the Leaky. They always give Harry and me that upstairs private room if we ask. I don't want to take the chance of word getting out about this until I know all the details."

* * *

"YAXLEY?!" Ginny yelled. "_And_ Macnair?!"

"Yes," Hermione said, as she took a bite of her biscuit. "I actually felt rather sorry for Macnair. Yaxley was a little more…er…earthy. Oh, and I suspect Rowle might have been attempting to get in line as well but I stopped that in its tracks."

"So now…let me get this straight. You went to an after-hours club and it's owned by Malfoy and all those paroled Death Eaters work there, and he wants to have a party and…"

"That's pretty much it. And I need to find some dress robes that don't make me look like I'm 12 years old. All of mine are too large; not to mention which most of them are out of date or remind me of my Order of Merlin ceremony…and…."

"And probably my brother, and he's going to be marrying Parkinson. I don't suppose there's any way you can get me an invitation to this shindig? I don't want to miss out," Ginny said.

"Well, technically, it's only supposed to be for witches and wizards who are subject to the Marriage Law. If you showed up…"

"Well, you could invite Harry, too," and Ginny smiled.

"I'm not sending out the invitations," Hermione said, after she had another sip of tea. "Mr Malfoy is."

"Are you quite sure this isn't some sort of elaborate plot?" Ginny asked.

"Oh, it's an elaborate plot, but I'm _nearly_ positive it's not a malevolent one."

PAIRING NOTES:

(Skip if you don't want spoilers and also if you don't want to read noodling about various DEs.)

As I'm currently writing this, there are four votes for Draco, three votes for any DE who is intelligent (which is of course against Hermione's current dalliance with Greg Goyle), two votes for Antonin, two votes for Yaxley, two votes for Rowle, and one vote for Lucius.

As of right now, in my particular part of the multiverse (the Cid62-niverse, if you will), Dolohov is still in Azkaban (and yes, I have a spreadsheet, LOL), so I'd have to get him out. I did study Russian in college, so…who knows, I might be in need of a refresher course.

Also, Lucius is still with Narcissa; I'll address that later, but I'll admit I did consider that both he and Narcissa might want to attend the mixer in search of possible new mates. I may add that in…thanks!

To my mystery Guest Reviewer: Wow… good observation about Macnair. I always assumed that there was a time loop, and Buckbeak escaped no matter what. Somehow, after years of writing about him (since 2002, off and on!), I've never considered that there was a timeline in which he succeeded at his job…and I'm gobsmacked. I have always seen him as more of a hunter/animal control officer/game warden type rather than a garden-variety psychopath, and I think that most likely, at some point after I started writing fics, I conflated his personality-a lot-with that of Jamie Fraser from the Outlander series. Originally, he was meant to be the cardboard-cutout villain of one of my early stories and he morphed along the way into a full-blown character.

All of us who write about DEs seem to have our favorites among the bunch, and likewise, our stock "yucky" DEs. Avery has always been at the top of my "yucky" list (probably because in GOF, he's the whiny one), but I do recognize that Macnair is at the top of the "yucky" list with a lot of fellow fanfic authors. The movie casting of him (there are three different ones) didn't help—the book description of him is VERY different-although of course Dolohov, Rowle, and Greyback got short shrift there too.

Anyway, enough rambling…if you've read this far I thank you. I promise to resolve the pairing issue at some point before the end of the fic, and I will take your votes into account!


	6. Chapter 6

AUTHOR'S NOTES:

Thank you to all who have read, reviewed, favorited and followed this story so far. I appreciate it. Pairing votes and notes are once again at the end of the chapter. On with the show!

_**Chapter 6 - **__**Grassing**__** on a classmate**__**  
**_

Hermione and Ginny finished their early tea and kept the conversation to relatively neutral subjects, until Ginny pointed out that it might be best to start heading toward Twilfitt and Tattings before it got any later. "You can't deny you're a _little_ picky, Hermione, and…."

"I suppose I really can't—and this is an important occasion, whether I think it should be or not," Hermione said, as she stood up.

"Well, just think, this dress robe just might be the one that makes your future husband decide that you're the witch for him!" Ginny smirked.

"Have I mentioned yet that I think this Marriage Law is absolutely archaic and barbaric?" Hermione interjected.

"Only about fifteen million times in the last few hours," Ginny giggled.

"And what if I happen to decide that I want to marry a witch?"

"_Do_ you?" Ginny asked, as she opened the door and headed down the stairs.

"No, but it should be an option, don't you think?" Hermione paused. "I suppose I've never wondered about that before."

"It's an option," Ginny said. "It doesn't happen that often, but it happens, as do triad marriages, but those usually happen among the more…er…traditional families." _By which she means Stodgy Old Purebloods_, Hermione thought, although a triad marriage didn't seem stodgy by Muggle standards.

"I can see I'm going to have to do some research on all this," Hermione said, as they descended the last step into the controlled chaos that was the Leaky Cauldron. As usual, stares and whispers followed both the witches…especially when she glanced at the bar and noticed that Greg Goyle was waving at her. Ginny had noticed, too.

"Don't look now, but…"

"I see him. Let's just go over there-I don't want any sort of scene," Hermione muttered in Ginny's ear.

"Hi Harmony! And hi, Mrs Weasley! The Harpies aren't the same since ya retired," Greg said. Ginny smiled, shook his hand, and didn't correct his naming error. "Bet ya didn't know I was a fan, Harmony! Do ya two want a lager?"

"It might make shopping for dress robes a _bit_ less tedious," Ginny said. "Why not?" She grabbed the stool next to Greg and took the lager he handed her.

"Why not, indeed," Hermione said, and she accepted her lager and sat down next to Ginny. "We can't stay long, though, Greg."

"That's all right. Harmony, I was going to send you an owl, I need to talk to you about something," Greg said, and Hermione mused that it was a rather longer sentence than she was used to hearing from him. _Oh no_, she thought. _Please don't, not here_. Ginny looked curiously at him for a moment and when light dawned, she surreptitiously poked Hermione in the side.

"I was hoping we could get married, yeah, there's this Law the Ministry passed, and Draco was telling me about it." Greg sat his empty lager glass down and signaled for another, and grabbed a few pretzels.

"Well, there's going to be a party at Draco's club for all the participants in the law. And I'm sorry, Greg, but I'm one of the organizers of it, so I simply can't make any marriage decisions until I'm done with all that," Hermione said, in a warm, compassionate tone. Although a future with Greg was even more out of the question than one with Rowle, she did appreciate the distraction and…to be honest…the comfort that he'd provided. Other than a couple of extremely oblique references, he'd never discussed the war or blood status during their times together. Of course, he didn't discuss much other than his favorite types of takeaway and the occasional Quidditch match, either, but that had been perfectly agreeable with her.

"It's all right, Harmony, you'd be better off with someone like Draco, or Mr Macnair, they both have a lot of books just like you do. Mr Macnair has a hunting lodge; we all went there a couple months ago…I saw one of your games in the bowl, Mrs Weasley, the one against Puddlemere where you made that Reverse Pass…"

"Yeah, that was a lot of fun, wasn't sure I was going to try it until the last minute…."

"Then you did that Hawkshead without even missing a beat—amazing, that was…." Hermione allowed her mind to wander as the two former school rivals enthusiastically discussed Quidditch plays. What on earth did Greg mean by "the bowl," she wondered…and then realized it must have been someone's Quidditch match memory, served up in a Pensieve for those who couldn't attend due to the minor inconvenience of still being on house arrest. Although, she mused, that didn't seem to have stopped all of them going to Macnair's hunting lodge for—presumably—a celebration of their parole. _There must have been some sort of loophole_, she thought, as she sipped on her lager and idly crunched through a couple of pretzels, noting that the sports-related talk was still going on without her.

"Hermione?" Ginny finally said when Greg was sipping on yet another lager. "We should probably go."

"Yes…I'm sorry, Greg, but we have to go shopping now," Hermione said, and realized that no matter what, when she spoke with him, she sounded quite patronizing, and she hoped he didn't notice.

"That's all right; I know how witches love to shop! See you later, Harmony," he said, as he stood up from his stool, took her hand, kissed it and bowed. "Thanks for talking to me, Mrs Weasley, I'll look for your column in the _Prophet_," he said to Ginny, as he performed the same polite ritual for her. Hermione heard the sound of a couple of flashbulbs and inwardly groaned. She'd managed to avoid being featured in the _Prophet's_ gossip column as well as the lurid pages of _Witch Weekly_ for several months now and hadn't missed it. Ginny, noticing the attention, took Hermione by the arm and Side-Alonged them to Twilfitt and Tatting's private Apparition portico.

"Enough of that rubbish," she said, as she rang the bell with her wand. "Let's get this over with—I need a new dress robe as well. I'd rather be fawned over here than deal with any more of those paparazzi—they're a menace!" Ginny said, scowling a bit.

And there was quite a bit of fawning after the door was opened. "Mrs Potter and Miss Granger! How lovely to see you! Do come in, I'll show you to our private fitting rooms and if you would, please let the attendants know what sort of event you'll be attending…" The witch who escorted them smiled and gestured down the hallway.

After they'd been seated and handed tall glasses of sparkling mead, Ginny turned to Hermione. "So, there was proposal number three, by my count—and it probably wasn't a surprise?"

"No, I wasn't surprised," Hermione said. "He is rather sweet in his own way. Not long after the Battle he sent thank-you notes to both Ron and me by owl, for what happened in the Room of Requirement. I suspect his mum or grandmum may have told him to do it. And then there was all that business that came out in the trials about Alecto Carrow and how she'd Imperiused both him and Vince."

"Do you believe that?" Ginny asked. Greg's sentence was a bit shorter than many of the Death Eater sympathizers (Hermione had noted to her relief on their first evening together that he was not Marked), mainly because of the Imperius defense. Ron had said something along the lines of "Who could even tell?"

"Knowing him the way I know him now, I do believe it. He was raised on all that Pureblood nonsense and it wasn't that much of a stretch to turn him into an enforcer for a year." Hermione paused. "He told me once, when he'd had a lot of lager and was just about to go to sleep, that Carrow…er, she apparently had other ways of persuading him." She looked down at her beaded bag, which appeared even shabbier than it had earlier thanks to the rarefied decor of the fitting room. "Er…yeah. I must remember to replace this..." She remembered all too well that Ginny likely had her own memories of the two Death Eaters-turned-teachers.

Ginny peered over at her friend. "I think I can imagine what those other ways were," she said, quietly. "That other Carrow, the brother—there were rumours about him. I did my best to stay as far away from him as I could." She quickly changed her sour expression as the heavy velvet curtains parted and two elegantly robed witches walked in.

"Good afternoon," the first witch said. "Miss Granger, Mr Malfoy stopped by earlier and let us know what you'd be requiring—if you will allow, we'll show in some models for those robes first. Mrs Potter…am I correct in thinking you'll need robes for the Quidditch Commentators' Banquet?"

"It figures," Hermione muttered in Ginny's ear, and then, a bit louder, she said, "But of course, please do send them in…." 

Several witches, wearing cocktail-length robes, glided through the doorway. Hermione immediately ruled out any who were wearing shades of green, silver, or pink. Ginny's enthusiastic vote was for the light blue, extremely low-cut robe, but Hermione selected an understated maroon number that reminded her of Chanel's New Look.

She stood and allowed the seamstress to take her measurements, as more witches entered in longer, evening-style robes. Ginny, ever the Gryffindor, immediately selected a red robe with gold braid accents with a fairy-spun gold shrug.

The shop assistant returned after taking Ginny's measurements and assured both Hermione and Ginny that the robes would be charged to their accounts and delivered by owl post as quickly as possible.

"Er, pardon me," Hermione said, as she stood up. "I'm…er…not certain I've opened an account here as of yet." 

The shop assistant beckoned to her and she walked over to the doorway.

"Mr Malfoy has charged the robe to his account, Miss," she began, as she reached in her robe pocket, "and he mentioned that you might want to wear these with it," and she handed Hermione a long, thin black box, which contained a pearl necklace with a small ruby pendant hanging from it and matching ruby earrings. "He felt certain that you'd choose that one." 

PAIRING VOTES AND NOTES:

(Skip if you don't want spoilers and also if you don't want to read noodling about various DEs.)

Draco: 7  
Antonin: 5  
Rowle: 4  
Yaxley: 2  
Lucius: 1 

Any intelligent DE: 4  
Triad: 1

By popular demand, Antonin will be on the way out of Azkaban. And don't forget, we still have Theo Nott, Rodolphus Lestrange, Rookwood (and Travers and Selwyn—but probably not them) as possibilities.

To my Mystery Guest Reviewer: I agree on all points! I'm a late-comer to the world of the GOT  
HBO show (I have read the books), but I agree, Khal Drogo was made much more palatable by the casting choice. (When I was explaining to my husband about the show I referred to him as the "Hot Sort-Of-Klingon Horse Lord").

As for HP casting choices, I was happy with many of them (especially Lucius!), but most definitely not Macnair. He's described in the books as a rather lumberjack-looking man, tall and strapping. "The Executioner" (who is unnamed) in the third movie is a scrawny wizened guy who never takes off his hood and has a comically oversized axe that doesn't look as if he'd be able to carry it in the first place. In the fourth film, "Macnair" is called out in the graveyard scene, but since the casting of the previous film was so annoying, that subplot is rendered pointless, and the actor is different—we only see him for a second. "The Executioner" is back in the fifth film, played by the same actor—not sure if he's named. By then I had given up on any expectations, and as I said, I'm pretty sure that's why Macnair is on the aforementioned "yucky DE list" of many writers. Even Yaxley gets a better deal! Of course, quite honestly, IRL I wouldn't want to be anywhere near any of these characters….and that is why much of the fic I write is about redeemed DEs. And of course this fic is meant to be light-hearted, although it delves into some serious subjects along the way.


	7. Chapter 7

AUTHOR'S NOTES:

Thank you to all who have read, reviewed, favorited and followed this story so far. I appreciate it. Pairing votes and notes are once again at the end of the chapter—don't forget to cast a vote for your choice.

On with the show!

_**Chapter 7 - **__**So beautiful and fortunate**_

_Of course_, Hermione thought, _I did choose that one, all on my own_—and as the shopkeeper was waiting for her response, she felt the only polite thing to do was to accept the jewelry, smile and dash over to Ginny, who was looking extremely curious at the whole exchange.

"What happened?" Ginny asked. The walls and curtains at Twilfitt and Tattings clearly had sound reducing and dampening spells built into them to reduce drama potential.

"Malfoy happened," Hermione replied. "Not only did he select all the robes that got sent in, he somehow figured out which one I would choose, and sent along appropriate jewelry for it."

"Well, honestly, I'd have guessed you'd pick that robe as well. It's very you—elegant and understated. Just because I'm a Quidditch nut doesn't mean I don't care about fashion," Ginny laughed. "And regardless of Malfoy's other faults, he does have good taste. I'm sure he just wants this party to be perfect…_and_ he's a Slytherin, so he's trying to bribe you to make sure you participate."

"I'm wondering if he isn't bribing me for some other reason," Hermione said, "but I really can't give any more thought to that particular subject. It's been a rather intense couple of days—well, other than these relaxing hours with you, which I wouldn't trade for anything—"

"Neither would I. I'm glad you're back, Hermione. Don't forget—Harry and I will always be your friends, no matter what happens…and I _do_ mean no matter what, because this Marriage Law is serious, and if you end up paired with someone like….I don't know…Lestrange or Dolohov…well….I guess we'll all have to live with it."

"Dolohov is in Azkaban, last I checked," Hermione said. "And as far as I can tell with the little research that I've done, it appears that we won't have to live with it for that long—the main stipulation is that the couples are to remain married for as long as it takes to produce at least one non-Squib child." She gave a short, tiny growl that sounded a lot like that of a lion cub. "Oooooh, I really hate this! Why isn't _anyone_ protesting this?! Why don't we have truly representative magical government?!" She'd stood up during this last pronouncement and had stamped her foot, and again, it was a good thing that it was magically quiet at the shop, because one of the shopkeepers had returned, a wrapped parcel in her hand.

"Pardon me, Miss Granger? It appears that Mr Malfoy had a rush order put in for your robe, so it's complete—simply tap on the parcel three times with your wand to open it—the robe will be pressed, steamed, and ready for your special event. We at Twilfitt and Tattings are grateful that you chose us for your formal wear needs, and please do feel free to come back any time." She paused for a brief moment to add, "Mrs Potter, your robe will be given our highest priority. Do enjoy the banquet."

"Would you like to come back to our place for some tea?" Ginny said, quietly.

"Would I ever," Hermione replied, as they stepped through the hallway to the portico.

* * *

Hermione spent the next couple of days in blissful relaxation with her pile of to-be-read books, Chinese takeaway, and some bad telly. Even the constant stream of Marriage Law articles in the _Prophet_ didn't annoy her as much as they had previously. She did learn, from her reading, that the actual arranged pairings at the heart of the law wouldn't take place until the Spring Equinox…._so if I truly wish to flee the country there's plenty of time,_ she thought, and she wondered if any other witches and wizards would be doing so.

The magical community in Australia was much smaller than that of Britain, because the initial colonists had—to their detriment—assumed that the indigenous population had no magic. After a number of unpleasant skirmishes, peace of a sort was established. There were magical enclaves in the largest cities, Quidditch teams, and a school of higher education. There was also a Ministry, but Hermione was loath to go back to government work. Of course, her parents lived there, so she would have a home base, but that seemed to her somewhat like admitting defeat, and she'd have to re-invent the rest of her life.

America had more to recommend it—she'd always wanted to visit New York City-although she would have to go through tedious magical immigration procedures just to end up in a dead-end job such as being an assistant instructor at Ilvermorny. The most prestigious American positions inevitably went to American witches and wizards. And, of course, she'd have to find a new place to live in addition to re-inventing the rest of her life.

Mostly unpleasant as things had been for her over the past year, she still had friends, the possibility of a new career—she'd been considering applying to teach at Hogwarts—and even the possibility of a new romance, because, after all, who knew what might happen as a result of the party at the Silver Serpent…or even her assigned Ministry pairing, if she allowed that to happen.

As she mused over her options while eating most of the contents of a pint of Madley's Magical Ice Cream Shoppe sherbet, her mind drifted in the direction of Draco. _If,_ she thought_, the Ministry pairs us up, or, alternatively, we pair ourselves up before the Ministry even gets involved….it might not be that bad_. After all, as Greg had said, he did have a lot of books (she'd noticed a packed-full bookcase in the corner of his room above the Serpent, and she was certain that the Manor had a library rivaling that of Hogwarts, although she'd never seen it. And there were the other options….Macnair (his story of lost love had surprisingly touched her) and Yaxley (his crudeness had, she admitted to herself, been slightly exciting in a forbidden way). Theo Nott was most definitely an option. She'd run into him more than a few times in the Hogwarts library, and had even sat with him in an extra-credit Ancient Runes seminar during their post-war Hogwarts days.

Then there were the other parolees… Rowle (too large!), Rookwood (too bureaucratic!), Rodolphus Lestrange (too closely related to Bellatrix, the wicked witch of Hermione's nightmares!), and Travers and Selwyn (too background!).

Then, there was Greg's polite and sincere proposal. She'd given thought to inviting him over, but had concluded that perhaps it was best to allow him to view her polite refusal of his offer as the end of…whatever it was they had. It wasn't precisely a relationship; she recalled the term "friends with benefits" from a Muggle film she'd seen recently—that was definitely what they were. Hopefully, she thought, he'd find someone appropriate for him, and end up happy.

Of course, there could be some heretofore unnoticed wizard who she might meet at the soiree, as well…and as if that thought had somehow broadcast through the air, just at that moment, a large owl landed on the mail-perch she'd installed outside her window. Since her flat was in Muggle London, but near Charing Cross and Diagon Alley, she'd done multiple Concealment Charms to keep the regular avian visitors from Muggle view.

The owl was carrying a large grey parchment envelope and she immediately knew what it must be.

_**the silver serpent…soho, london  
proudly presents**_

_**a celebration of the ministry's marriage law  
**_

_**cocktail mixer – 6 pm saturday (light dinner provided)  
informal brunch – 2 pm sunday**_

_**rsvp via enclosed card by friday 11 am  
portkey provided upon your rsvp**_

She checked "Will Attend" on the enclosed card, and added a note—"Portkey not required; thank you for your consideration, -HG" The owl had waited for her reply and once she'd handed it the letter, she watched as it flew away past her protective wards, winging its way to Wilshire.

* * *

The next morning, there was another owl at her window carrying a large grey envelope and she was rather annoyed. _I don't need a Portkey unless Malfoy's somehow changed his mind over the last couple of days, so why are you wasting your magical effort,_ she thought, as she sat her tea mug down and opened the window for the owl.

On the outside of this envelope, under her name and address- "Miss Hermione Granger, Charing Cross, London" (no postal code needed, naturally)-was a line reading "Please open before you read the _Prophet_ today." As her copy had not yet arrived—she'd awoken early, at much the same time she used to wake for her Ministry job—she figured the letter must be important, so she offered the owl a treat (which it took gratefully) and slit open the letter with her miniature Gryffindor sword letter opener (a Christmas gift from Harry).

The letter was short and to the point.

_Dear Granger,_

_Dolohov is being released from Azkaban into my program later this afternoon. Can you come by the Serpent as soon as possible? Feel free to Floo me, the address is Silver Serpent Soho._

_Best,_

_Malfoy_

"Oh shite…" she said, out loud, and the owl cocked its head at her. "Oh! Not you—sorry. I'll be replying by Floo, you can head home," she said, and the owl flapped away through the window. Just as it had disappeared from view, the _Prophet_ owl landed. _I wonder how he knew_, she thought. _Of course, he likely has to get up early to run the club, especially this week_, she considered, the rather indolent night and day she'd spent there had probably been quite out of the ordinary.

The Prophet's headline was unsurprising.

**DEATH EATER DOLOHOV GOING TO WORK-RELEASE PROGRAM**

The story detailed how Dolohov was going to be under the direct supervision of Mr Draco Malfoy, whose innovative magic-free program, according to a Magical Law Enforcement spokeswizard, had been quite successful over the last few months. "This writer cannot help but speculate that Mr Dolohov's release might be related to the recent Marriage Law," Hermione read, and she slowly sat the paper down after that. She'd never quite recovered from the mysterious purple-fire curse used by Dolohov at the Department of Mysteries and well remembered the ten different potions she'd had to down as a result of it. In fact, she was still taking one of them! He'd killed Molly Weasley's brothers…and Professor Lupin! How on earth had he managed to get paroled from Azkaban, and how was he even being considered as part of the Marriage Law? Weren't there five hundred potential candidates, according to Draco? Why was one more wizard necessary, especially a wizard of this particular caliber?

She stood up and walked over to her fireplace; she'd chosen this particular residential building because most of the flats had that feature. The package from Twilfitt and Tattings sat at one end of the mantel and her container of Floo Powder sat at the other, like a malevolent set of scales that she did not wish to balance.

Kneeling down on the hearthstone, she tossed the glittering powder into the flames and shouted "Silver Serpent Soho!" She poked her head gingerly into the magical flames. Walden Macnair sat at the kitchen table; when he spotted her, he stood up and walked toward her. "Good morn', lass," he said, quietly. "What can I help ye with?"

"Good morning, Mr Macnair. I need to speak with Draco…" and her voice trailed off as she spotted the wizard in question approaching the fireplace quickly.

"Granger, good, you got my message. Walden, I'm sorry, but could you…" and he nodded in the direction of Macnair, who was already on his way out the door. "Can you come through, Granger?"

"Sorry, but I'm not dressed for visiting yet—if you could give me a few minutes—"

"Of course. If you haven't had breakfast I can get something rustled up quickly."

"I've just had tea, breakfast would be nice—be back in about fifteen minutes," Hermione said, as she withdrew from the flames and dashed off to her room.

Twenty minutes later, she and Draco sat at the table, a tea pot, toast rack and various breakfast foods spread between them. To his credit, Draco didn't try to stall.

"I was quite concerned that the news about Antonin would surprise you and possibly cause you to withdraw your offer to participate in the soiree, so I wanted to speak with you before he showed up," he began.

"I….I understand that the Ministry is trying to—with this Law, I mean, er…unite the wizarding world, but why this wizard and why now? If the Weasleys hear about this—or Teddy-well, likely they already have, if they've gotten their copy of the _Prophet_. How did he even manage to get paroled?

"All I can say is that anyone who thinks the Ministry is not corrupt is sadly mistaken," Draco said.

"I've never laboured under that assumption myself," Hermione replied, as she grabbed a piece of toast and began to butter it. "Could you pass the sugar? Thank you. And you know, he did that curse of his on me, the purple-fire one, Agerum…whatever? I'm still recovering from it. I still have to take this foul potion every morning. And I have a purple scar which will never go away because of it. I don't suppose there's any way you can, I don't know, assign him to some sort of duty at the soiree so that I'll never have to see him? Perhaps he can clean the wizards' loo along with Yaxley?"

"I'll come up with something," Draco said. "In the meantime, I'm rather glad you're here, I'd like to go ahead and get started with setting up the main room, if you're available?"

.

.

.

.

.

* * *

PAIRING VOTES AND NOTES:

(Skip if you don't want spoilers and also if you don't want to read noodling about various DEs.)

Here are the current votes:

Draco: 8  
Antonin: 6  
Rowle: 5  
Yaxley: 2  
Lucius: 1  
Theo: 1

Any intelligent DE: 4  
Triad/more: 2

Antonin is out! There will be interaction between Hermione and him…soon. I have never written him before, only referred to him, so this should be interesting.


	8. Chapter 8

AUTHOR'S NOTES:

Thank you to all who have read, reviewed, favorited and followed this story so far. I appreciate it. Pairing votes and notes are once again at the end of the chapter—don't forget to cast a vote for your choice. I will be closing voting down at some point, but don't worry—there will be plenty of warning.

The next update will be next week; sorry that I'm not able to do weekend updates.

On with the show!

_**Chapter 8 - **__**You're the one who hates to love**__**  
**_

"Of course," Hermione said. "I'm not busy today—I'd been planning to come by later, but as long as I'm here…Once I have some more tea and breakfast, we can get with the business of redecorating and enlarging that room," she added, although she briefly mourned the loss of one more day of relaxation.

"Looks as if I showed up at the right time," Yaxley said, as he walked into the kitchen and sat down at the table, directly across from Hermione. "Only you're talking about enlarging things again," he added, and winked at her.

"Good morning, Mr. Yaxley," Hermione said, with an audible sigh. "I was referring to the club, of course—all that extra square footage you'll have to polish."

"Oh, I've gotten _quite_ expert at polishing extra footage," he said. "Mind if I have some of this food, Draco?"

"Not at all, Corban." He tapped his wand on his throat and said, "Walden—breakfast," and then turned to Hermione and added, to her relief, "We'll finish our conversation later." She nodded and passed the platter of bacon to Yaxley. Macnair re-entered the room, sat down next to Yaxley, and silently began filling his plate with food.

"So—from what my father told me this morning, there will be somewhere around 350 attendees at each of the events," Draco said, after a long pause during which he consumed his toast.

"I suppose the other hundred and fifty or so are taking their chances with the Ministry? Or leaving the UK?" Hermione opined.

"That was my thought. The invitations did include a note to the prospective candidates explaining that this event was being held with an eye to, er 'matching up singles'…or some such. Mother actually worded it. There have been no impolite refusals—so far. I'll get the final count from Father tomorrow." He turned to Macnair. "Walden, I'll have Theo help you out. He's at the Ministry right now getting his restricted wand—timing couldn't have been better," he added, with a significant look at Hermione. "Travers and Selwyn, along with five off-duty MLE officers, will be working the arrivals. Corban, I'll need you and Augustus to do crowd control and general logistics. Thorfinn and Roddy will be doing the music. My parents will be coordinating the refreshments on both days along with the elves…" Everyone at the table looked at Hermione.

"What?" Hermione said. "As long as they're being treated fairly I have no issues!"

"We actually have several hire-elves from the Placement Agency coming in. They'll be serving food and handling all the clean-up duties," Draco said.

"Oh!" Hermione exclaimed. "I suppose that's all right then." Yaxley chuckled. "What, do _you_ have an issue with house-elves being treated fairly, Mr Yaxley?"

"The elves at my manor are treated fairly," he said, after a short pause. "No reason not to."

Hermione thought of inquiring about who was taking care of his manor—not that she'd known he even had one—but pragmatically decided to keep the conversation moving in the direction of party planning and didn't inquire further.

"As I was saying," Draco continued. "The brunch on Sunday is coming from the Leaky Cauldron; Mrs Longbottom will be here to take care of that, and her husband is bringing some floral decorations…" Hermione attempted to not act surprised at this news, but didn't do a good job, as Draco smirked at her. "What? Mother approached them and they agreed. I'll be giving Roddy the day off on Sunday, so Finnegan will be helping with the music. Finally—_Harmony_, you and I will have help as well, Potter and Weasley are going to be hosting along with us."

"Which Weasley?" Hermione asked, hoping that it wasn't going to be Ron.

"Potter's wife," Draco said. "But please do owl her and ask her, as a personal favour to me, not to wear that ghastly Gryffindor creation. Neither of these events requires evening robes."

"Pity they require robes at all," Yaxley muttered.

"Corban, _that_ sort of soiree, if it ever occurs again, would be my father's department and wouldn't happen here," Draco replied, and then added, "Oh, and Weasley will be helping you, Walden, with some…er…extra added potions to…speed things along, shall we say."

Hermione did not need to ask which Weasley, that time; she was glad that another Gryffindor would be in attendance, and ever since he'd sent her the chocolates, she'd been even more kindly disposed toward George. Having read some of the trial transcripts, she also didn't need to ask about 'that sort of soiree,' but she did wonder exactly how much Yaxley had been involved in the infamous Revels, and to her dismay, thinking of how direct he'd been with her, she began to blush. She attempted to cover up the awkward moment by taking a long sip of tea—but Yaxley was looking directly at her and absolutely noted her discomfiture, because he winked at her yet again.

Draco, meanwhile, pretended he didn't notice that anything was going on, and kept talking. "And finally—my ex and Weasley will be attending, presumably also as hosts and chaperones. I'm not happy about it but I felt it best to keep the peace."

Hermione, who'd rather been hoping that Draco would have run out of Weasleys to mention by now, gave a not-very-quiet groan.

"I know, Granger," Draco said. "My mother insisted. I don't have an issue with his brother or sister, you know. And apparently we're distantly related to the Weasleys—a fact which I would like to forget—but this event is meant to foster magical unity, in addition to circumventing the Ministry, so we'll both have to put up with it…sorry."

"I'll make sure he stays out of yer way, lass," Macnair said, rather unexpectedly, as he sat his fork down.

"So will I," said Yaxley, as he reached for another piece of toast.

"Well…um, thank you both," Hermione said, and then spoke up again, as she thought of something. "Er….what about Mr Dolohov?"

"Ah yes," Draco continued. "I rather suspect he won't wish to participate despite what that rag printed this morning. I was expecting that he'd want to get a lot of rest after he got here."

"He will," Yaxley said. "I'll keep an eye on him as well. Draco, I'd suggest you restrict his movement for the duration."

"Good idea," Draco said. "Granger—are you just about ready? We're still on our regular schedule for tonight, so I wanted to rest up after we sort things out in there. Corban, we should be done in about half an hour or so, if you'd stay here and watch the post and the Floo for me?"

Although Hermione had been expecting Yaxley to make some sort of comment, he merely nodded and said, "Aye."

Draco stood up and indicated that Hermione should follow him. They'd gotten about halfway down the hall when she excused herself to stop into the loo. After she emerged, Draco wasn't in the hallway; instead Yaxley was leaning casually against the wall, glancing in the direction of the kitchen.

"Pardon me, Mr Yaxley," Hermione said, and started to head toward the main room.

"As long as you're not busy today, why don't you stick around after you're done in there, Miss Granger?" he said, looking directly at her.

"For what reason?" Hermione asked, although she realized that she had a rather good idea of what he was suggesting.

"Brightest witch of her age should be able to figure _that_ out," he said, as he slowly ambled back to the kitchen, not waiting for her answer.

"Infuriating man! Why does he even think I'd be interested…grrrrr…." she muttered, as she continued down the hall. Draco was sitting on one of the couches and stood up as she entered the room.

"What in Merlin's name are you grousing about, Granger? This won't be like the NEWTS—you could do this sort of thing in your sleep," he said, with a smile.

"It's not this," Hermione said, gesturing to the main club-room as she sat down upon the same couch as Draco, who had returned to his seat. "It's…"

"Weasel King and Pans," Draco finished for her. _Well, let him think that for now_, Hermione thought.

"Well, yes, him…_and_ Dolohov," she said.

"A more unlikely pair I can't imagine," Draco began. "Although stranger things have happened and are likely to happen as a result of all this folderol. And I should warn you—my parents are going to be, er, participating in the festivities as well as coordinating the refreshments. But if you could keep that quiet for now, I'd appreciate it."

"But…didn't you say Malfoys didn't divorce?"

"Well spotted, Granger. They're not divorcing. They want to add a third. I can't say I wasn't expecting as much. It might be nice to have a younger sibling," he mused.

"So that really _does_ happen," Hermione said. "I thought Ginny was having me on!"

"Of course it happens. And given the likelihood of your popularity, were I you, I'd be looking into the possibilities," Draco said. "For example, Corban would be a fine choice if you wanted an extra husband. He's got a manor, which he happened to just coincidentally mention. And with two wizards, you'd have twice the chance of getting those pesky Ministry requirements out of the way and getting on with…oh, liberating elves or whatever it is you wanted to do with the rest of your life."

"As a matter of fact," Hermione began, and Draco held his hand up.

"It's not that I don't agree with you on that, Granger. Elves do an awful lot for us and I agree they've gotten a raw deal over the centuries. I'd love to have a discussion on creature rights with you during any other week which doesn't feature a looming deadline." He smiled. "For now, let me assure you that between me, my father, and apparently your two….er….guards in there…." He paused and looked at Hermione, who, to her chagrin, blushed. "We'll keep Dolohov _and_ Weaselbee out of your way."

"Thanks, Malfoy," she said, looking down at her hands.

"What exactly was up with those two and you, by the way? I couldn't help noticing."

"You mean Mr Macnair and Mr Yaxley, yes?" Hermione muttered.

"Unless The Chosen One was in there under his bloody Cloak, but that would make three, and I'm fairly sure Potty's a little occupied at the moment."

"Well, they both proposed to me the other day," Hermione blurted.

"Oh! I thought so—I was joking when I mentioned it, but I thought they might. Well, I thought Walden might, he's been alone for a while and you all did seem to be getting along rather splendidly…"

"He was very much the gentleman, not at all what I expected," Hermione said, quietly.

"I really do think that the curriculum at Hogwarts would be well-served with a class called "Introduction to Wizarding Society," rather than that pointless Muggle Studies class," Draco said, as he stood up. "Hermione, regardless of all the unpleasantness during the war and all that…rhetoric spouted by the Pretender and his true believers, those of us in the older families were raised to be gentlemen wizards. Surely you must have noticed that in Greg."

She thought of his hand-kiss the other day at the Cauldron, and nodded. "I did."

"He mentioned that you'd turned him down, by the way," Draco added. "And that you were very nice about it." He paused, turned on his heel, and looked around at the room. "Let's just enlarge the room for now and put a divider up to cover the space that we won't be using tonight."

"Don't we want to…er, change the wall colour…or…" Hermione interjected, as she stood up.

"We can do all that tomorrow, it's important that I stay open for the regular hours tonight, it's all part of my work-release program, keeping a consistent schedule. It's annoying enough that I had to fill out several forms and go through an extensive interview in order to get these parties approved…not to mention the undercover Aurors that will be attending…and of course, Potter, who will be extremely visible…." Draco was pointing his wand at the far wall. "All right, Granger, on the count of three?"

"Let's get this TARDIS started," Hermione muttered, and Draco aimed a genuinely puzzled look in her direction.

"Never mind," Hermione said, and together they waved their wands and cast the necessary spells to make the club bigger on the inside.

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PAIRING VOTES AND NOTES:

(Skip if you don't want spoilers and also if you don't want to read noodling about various DEs.)

Here are the current votes:

Draco: 9  
Antonin: 7  
Rowle: 5  
Yaxley: 2  
Lucius: 1  
Theo: 1

Any intelligent DE: 4  
Triad/more: 4

I'll be closing up the voting fairly soon, but will make sure to warn you all before that happens. I have an idea of how things are going to go but—as my fellow fic writers will attest—sometimes characters don't do exactly what you want them to do!


	9. Chapter 9

AUTHOR'S NOTES:

Thank you to all who have read, reviewed, favorited and followed this story so far. I appreciate it. Pairing votes and notes are once again at the end of the chapter—don't forget to cast a vote for your choice.

Please note: this fic has been T rated but it's about to cross the border into M territory so I will be upping the rating.

On with the show!

_**Chapter 9 - **__**But he's the one who loves to hate**__**  
**_

It took about fifteen minutes for the two of them to enlarge the main room to hold 450 guests (Draco decided at the last minute to overestimate a bit, just in case). Hermione added more stalls to the witches' loo, as well as adding a small lounge area for makeup reapplication and such. Draco did the same for the wizards'. Together, they added a temporary divider in the main room so that the club would be normal for that evening's festivities, and then they were done. Draco Summoned some tea and scones and they sat together on one of the couches, allowing both the respite and the nourishment to recharge their magical potency. By unspoken mutual agreement, they discussed neutral topics, until Draco's pocket watch gave a small chime.

"Sorry, Granger. If I'm not completely rested up, running this place is even more annoying than you can imagine." He stood. "You don't have to dash off right this second. I would definitely appreciate it if you would come back around noon or so, tomorrow. I'll have lunch ready in the kitchen and then we'll do a dry run of things. The club won't be open tomorrow night, of course, so we'll get all the decorating sorted as well. As for now, you can either head back through the Floo or go out the back door and use the Apparition point—it's clearly marked. I'm fairly sure that you can handle yourself….and for Salazar's sake, don't let any of the others know that I can directly Apparate to my room," he said, as he spun on the spot and vanished.

When Hermione allowed her mind to wander later that evening, the first thing she mused over is why she hadn't just asked Draco to escort her out. It would have been the sensible thing to do, and Hermione Jean Granger had been a sensible child of sensible parents, who lived in a sensible suburb, and sensibly did her homework and prepared for higher education. All of her Muggle sensibility had abruptly vanished the night that Professor McGonagall appeared at the door to her house, Hogwarts acceptance letter in one hand and wand in the other….but nevertheless, through her educational career, she'd been a very sensible witch. The war, of course, was an interlude during which all standards, mores and sense were either utilitarian or ignored, but when she'd come back to Hogwarts for her 'eighth year' studies and then proceeded directly on to the Ministry, she'd regained her balance….then, the Ron Incident had happened. Intellectually, she knew that her indolence and indulgence over the past year was an attempt to stave off depression, but even so, she felt like she'd let go of the thread of her life and she desperately wanted to feel again….feel something.

So after Draco left, rather than heading back down the hallway and back to another lazy day of telly, books, and takeout, she stood up and walked slowly over in the direction of the bar that had been the main attraction for her the night she'd come here with her…well, not friends, but bar-hopping acquaintances, who had all apparently left the club without seeing to her departure. Possibly they thought she was planning to go home with Macnair—even though he lived upstairs, they might not have known that. However, she was sure they'd known exactly where they'd taken her, into a literal den of vipers, and they'd probably found that funny. She didn't care, because as Malfoy had just said, she could handle herself. She was an adult, after all, albeit one that had grown up too quickly because of the war. And she had become a rather cynical one once she realized, long after Voldemort had been killed, that neither the Order (particularly Dumbledore) or the Ministry had seemed to see her as much more than a Muggleborn pawn in a Pureblood wizarding game.

She examined the bottles behind the bar and concluded that it really was too early to start drinking, so she passed the bar by in favour of the DJ station. It featured a large wizarding gramophone and a stack of 78s, which she idly began flipping through. She didn't remember what music had been playing the night she came here, other than it had been loud.

The selection was surprising. There were, of course, lots of Weird Sisters records, which she expected, as well as a number of other wizarding bands and vocalists that she recognized from the WWN. But there was Muggle music as well, artists that figured prominently in her own CD collection, and many that she knew from BBC Radio 1 and 6…and lastly, a couple of very surprising movie and television soundtracks. Chuckling a bit to herself, she put one of those latter records on and tapped the gramophone with her wand to start it.

A haunting, insistent, twangy melody, the theme from a 'guilty pleasure' drama on the telly that she particularly enjoyed because it involved a hidden supernatural world, began echoing through the club, and she smiled to herself and began swaying to the music.

_When you came in the air went out  
And every shadow filled up with doubt  
I don't know who you think you are  
But before the night is through  
I wanna do bad things with you_

_I'm the kind to sit up in his room  
Heart sick an' eyes filled up with blue  
I don't know what you've done to me  
But I know this much is true  
I wanna do bad things with you, okay.._

Thinking wistfully of the attractive televised vampires (who bore little to no relation to the actual vampires she'd met), she closed her eyes and imagined that Eric Northman was there, offering his hand for a dance. She almost thought she heard his boot heels clicking on the floor of Fangtasia and felt a little as if she had accidentally ingested one of the Weasleys' Patented Daydream Charms rather than her tea….until she opened her eyes and saw Corban Yaxley standing there, a reptilian smile on his face, his hair unbound from its queue and cascading around his shoulders. He was extending his hand to her, and she took it, feeling so light and un-grounded that she wondered for a brief second if he'd somehow Imperiused her, but she knew he was incapable of such. He pulled her into his arms and began dancing with her, spinning her around the room quite masterfully—_of course all Purebloods can dance well_, she thought, _they were probably instructed practically from birth_…

"Glad ya decided to stay, Hermione," he muttered in her ear.

"I didn't exactly decide, Mr Yaxley," she said.

"Ye're here now and that's what matters, and the name's Corban," he said, as they continued to dance through several songs from the show's soundtrack, some fast and pounding, others more waltz-like, until "Play With Fire" came on, and he pulled her close and began to kiss her and every last bit of sensibility she possessed vanished into non-being as surely as if she'd waved her wand, and she kissed him back, slowly and then faster as the insistent percussion and the melody wound their way around the back of her brain like the Legilimency spell. They moved together toward the couch and before long they were entwined there, their fevered kisses and caresses becoming more and more heated, and he growled as he slid his hand under her jumper and ground up against her, and then whispered in her ear, "This is normally the point at which I'd be Disapparating us somewhere more private, sweetheart."

"I…er…I've not been anywhere other than Draco's room up there," she muttered. He started kissing her neck.

"Suppose ye'll have to improvise," he said, and she withdrew herself from his embrace and sat up, moved the divider that she and Draco had created aside, slid the couch behind it, then did a Muffliato and a Notice-Me-Not around the general area. Finally, she moved the barrier back into place. They could still hear the music playing, but nobody could hear or see them. The area was dimly lit by the serpent torches.

They sat together on the sofa, his arm around her. She could feel the heat between them.

"Nicely done," he said. "I do love feeling your magic…it's intoxicating after so long not even being near it. Can't exactly be cuddling up to Draco, can I?" He took her hand and began caressing it. "I can feel your power sparking right here," he said, as he turned her hand, palm up, and kissed it.

"What's it like…having your magic blocked?" she asked, after a while, during which he slowly urged her to recline on the sofa, and rolled over so that he was on top of her. He was ever-so-slowly still moving to the music and she found that mesmerizing. He hadn't continued to kiss her…yet.

"Horrible. Like a part of me is missing and I can't exactly work out what that part is. And I keep reaching for my wand to do things, just…ya know, everyday things. Not sure how long it's going to be until I get a restricted wand." He dipped his head toward her and kissed her gently and continued to speak to her during kisses. "And I'm very much enjoying what we're doing here." He paused and slid one hand under her jumper again. "And I want to keep following it to its logical conclusion, but unless you become one of me consorts or we become engaged it's not proper…" he said, before he began kissing her again in earnest and she kissed him back yet again and things became very heated, he'd slipped her jumper over her head somehow, and his shirt was unbuttoned—his chest was quite muscular (not as much as Greg's, but that was all right), and she felt his insistent hardness nudging against her thigh….and she looked at him. He was not handsome but neither was he unattractive, and she did rather like his hair down…he looked, in fact, like a more rugged version of Lucius Malfoy, who she'd always secretly (_very_ secretly, not even Ginny knew) found attractive. And he knew what he was doing; he was not fumbling around like Ron often had, or coming straight-to-the-point like Greg had….this was more like those stolen kisses with Viktor in the back of the library, or on the dance floor at the Yule Ball. He was concentrating a lot on making her feel very good and very wanted. And he smelled nice, too—he had on some sort of masculine, earthy cologne that wasn't overpowering but was, nevertheless, filling up all her senses.

"Not proper?" Hermione finally said when they were nearly undressed and she was just about ready to abandon all her principles and just let him take her, propriety be damned.

"Not proper," Corban said, and he slowly and gently pulled back from her, enough so they could have a conversation. "I told ya the other day, although I came on a bit too strong, and I'm sorry for that—I've been on my own for a while. I consider ya a suitable match for me so I can't disrespect ya…even if ya did impersonate me consort at the Ministry that time."

"Madam Hopkirk?" Hermione asked.

"Aye, Mafalda, she was one of them who decided I was no longer appropriate. Timing was bad. Knew something was wrong when ya came in that courtroom with the Frog Princess," he added.

"You mean you don't really believe that nonsense about Muggleborns stealing wands?" Hermione finally said, as she attempted to regain her intellectual faculties, all the while inwardly chuckling at his nickname for the horrid witch. It was difficult because her jumper was still off and Yaxley was still pressed rather closely against her. He knew the effect he was having-he had a smirk on his face.

"I don't care about that shite. It didn't matter in Azkaban and it doesn't matter now. But if we don't stop what we're doing you're going to steal my…other wand," he said, as he ground his rather substantial fabric-covered hardness against her. "And I won't want it back for a while," he added. He finally gave a long, frustrated groan and rolled off her and sat up. "I know ya can't make a decision until after the parties. Walden told me what ye said to him." He leaned down and picked up her jumper from where he'd tossed it. "You're beautiful, sweetheart. I want to be with ya, I want to continue this, but it needs to be yer choice. And it also definitely needs to be somewhere else—"he gestured to the divider, beyond which some footsteps were just barely audible. He then started buttoning his shirt, and smoothed his hand over the large bulge in his trousers. "I need to wait a minute, but ya should see who's out there."

Hermione slipped her jumper over her head, slowly stood up, took a deep breath, and walked over to the small gap between the divider and the wall, and moved her wand a slight bit, so that the divider pushed forward, allowing enough space for her to see into the main club room. It was, of course, quite bright in there because of the large windows; it looked as if it was very nearly noon. The music was still playing, something very Cajun.

She finally spotted Walden Macnair behind the bar—he looked like he was doing inventory with a small notebook and a quill. Although he, like Corban, did not have a wand, he was nevertheless large and could quite possibly overpower her, and it didn't seem a wise idea to surprise him. She knocked on the divider—they'd created it out of one of the couches, so it was wood and leather, and it echoed a bit.

"Mr Macnair?" she said, loud enough so that he could hear her over the music. She then waved her wand so that the volume decreased a bit.

"Hello, lass. Would ye like a drink?" He didn't seem at all surprised to see her.

At this point, Hermione thought, it was definitely _not_ too early. "I would, but not too strong." She was still tipsy, after all, with both excitement and frustration.

"Think Corban wants one too?" he asked.

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PAIRING VOTES AND NOTES:

(Skip if you don't want spoilers and also if you don't want to read noodling about various DEs.)

Here are the current votes:

Draco: 9  
Antonin: 8  
Rowle: 5  
Yaxley: 3  
Lucius: 2  
Macnair: 2  
Theo: 1

Any intelligent DE: 4  
Triad/more: 8

Hermione and Yaxley are dancing to "True Blood: Music from the HBO Original Series"; clearly, some Muggleborn wizard sneaked it into the Serpent's music rotation, which I find hilarious.

Yaxley's cologne smells like pine, juniper, sandalwood and vetiver (like incense I made once for Herne the Hunter). I would like to think there's a really cool store in Diagon Alley with essential-oil-based personal care products.


	10. Chapter 10

AUTHOR'S NOTES:

Many thanks to all who have read, reviewed, favorited and followed this story so far. I appreciate it. As the Fourth of July long weekend is coming up, there will be a break in updates and I apologize. To all my American readers—Happy Fourth! Pairing votes and notes are once again at the end of the chapter—don't forget to cast a vote for your choice.

On with the show!

_**Chapter 10 - **__**He can fix you all for good**__**  
**_

She felt hands on her shoulders as she started to respond; Corban kissed her neck and muttered in her ear, "I'd rather taste your sweet nectar…." and then said the last part, louder, so that Macnair could hear "…but I suppose a whisky will have to do." Macnair turned around and grabbed a bottle of whisky off the shelf, as Corban steered Hermione in the direction of the bar.

"Vodka soda, lass?" asked Macnair, as he poured the whisky.

"With a twist of lime if you don't mind," she said, as she sat down on the same bar stool she'd occupied the other evening. Corban grabbed his whisky, drank half of it, sat his glass down on the bar, and then positioned himself behind Hermione so that his arms draped over her shoulders.

"I…er…have to go after I finish this drink," Hermione began. "I need to get back home; tomorrow's going to be busy…" she let her voice drift off as she accepted the drink from Macnair and took a couple of sips. It was refreshing and the alcohol served to numb her still-overwhelmed senses just a bit.

"Could make _today_ busy too, sweetheart, if ya make yer choice," Corban rumbled into her ear, and as he started to kiss her neck yet again, her eyes fluttered closed.

"Ye doona have ta just choose _one_ of us, ye know," Macnair said. Hermione heard footsteps and realized that he'd come around the bar and was standing right next to them, and had taken her left hand in his.

"I….er…I know," she stammered, glad that she had set her drink down as she slowly slid her right hand over to her jeans pocket, ensuring that her wand was still in easy reach. Macnair lifted her hand up, turned it over, and kissed the center of her palm. Corban began chuckling; he'd backed up a bit to allow Macnair to make his move, but he kept his hands on Hermione's shoulders and quietly said, "I miss the Revels…."

A loud, clanging bell, which reminded Hermione of the one that had rung between classes at her prep school, sonically intruded on the trio. Corban immediately jumped away from Hermione and Walden let her hand go (_the term 'saved by the bell' had surely never been so apropos, _Hermione thought_, although she'd not exactly been complaining_).

"Bugger all," spat Corban. "Have got to go and let the Aurors in," he added, as he began to walk quickly toward the hallway entrance. She noted he'd put his hair back in a queue, but not braided it. "Walden, if you don't mind coming with me?"

_I can't imagine that they would be very polite to their disgraced former supervisor—no wonder he wants backup_, Hermione thought. Further, she had no desire to run into Dolohov, so she wondered if she ought to just do an Irish goodbye and come back tomorrow, as she finished her drink. However, the door leading to the Apparition point where the Aurors had presumably arrived and the kitchen fireplace were right next to each other, so she'd not be able to leave un-noticed. Disapparating to Draco's room to hide out was similarly out of the question. That sort of thing was just not done among polite witches and wizards, and he might have some sort of ward up—certainly, if Hermione lived here, she would….

And then she chuckled to herself and thought, _are you a Muggleborn witch or not_? She sat down her finished drink, pulled her wand out of her back pocket, walked over to the front door, unlocked it with a quick Alohomora, and closed it quietly behind her. She looked both ways before she stepped onto the sidewalk, stowed her wand surreptitiously, and hailed a black taxicab, which got her home in ten minutes.

Once she arrived at her flat she reset the wards and flopped onto her couch. _I really need to get back onto a regular schedule_, she thought, before she drifted off to sleep.

* * *

Later that evening, over a restorative cuppa, she pondered her options. Tomorrow would be all about party planning and redecorating and she'd possibly have a nice chat or two with Draco. Most likely, the Aurors, in addition to bringing Dolohov, had probably also brought back Theo Nott and his restricted wand, and she was sorry she'd had to miss him, but things had really gotten way too intense too quickly with the two paroled Death Eaters. She was not entirely sure that she wouldn't have ended up in an even more compromising position—possibly involving one of the couches and fewer items of clothing—if that bell hadn't rung.

However, she was unlikely to have any more free time with either of them over the next couple of days, so that was a moot point…although she had to admit, having the attentions of two strong and powerful wizards (although, of course, both were currently barred from performing magic and not much other than snogging had occurred) was quite satisfying, _much more so than Ron_, her traitorous mind added.

_Bloody hell….Ron_, she thought. He'd be at the parties, with Parkinson, but there was a chance that he'd want to speak with her…probably more than a chance, she thought, as she recalled how many owls with his distinctive, messy scrawl on them she'd incinerated the other day. Of course, he wouldn't be there during the planning phase, and the bar would be open, providing lots of liquid anodyne…_and a very hot wizard serving it up_….she thought, _and one standing guard_….and her stomach gave a little flip as she remembered Corban's expert attentions. She could not deny that she wanted more.

What did being a consort mean, exactly? He'd mentioned that twice now as a possible option, apart from marriage. She suspected it might be something like a mistress in the Muggle world, but it seemed that there might be more involved, some sort of agreement. Ginny, Draco, Corban and Walden had all mentioned that marriages between multiple partners were possible; Draco had stated bluntly that his parents were going to add a partner to their marriage. How did that even work? Draco had been correct; there should have been an introductory wizarding society course at school. Clearly, the mores and unfamiliar terms were explained from childhood by wizarding parents or relatives—none of which she had. Her mother had, of course, had The Talk with her, most of which centered on regularly using effective contraception and having a career before one got married—with which Hermione still agreed, despite her social milieu.

There was only one thing for it. She'd have to make a list of everything she needed to know about, corner Draco, and ask for a crash course in Wizarding Dating Etiquette. After all, she was helping him, so a little _quid pro quo_ wouldn't be amiss; a sentiment she was sure the Slytherin would appreciate. And if he wasn't available, she could possibly Floo Ginny, or-if she was really desperate and time was at a premium-Mrs Weasley. So, she grabbed her remote, turned on BBC6 for some background noise, picked up her ballpoint pen and Moleskine, and began making furious notes.

Hermione Granger, lifetime student, was back.

* * *

The next morning, after she awoke, administered caffeine, breakfasted and showered, Hermione considered her wardrobe appraisingly. She had her old Ministry work wardrobe, some casual Muggle clothes and the aforementioned clubwear, several old dress robes, the new robe from Draco…and absolutely no wizarding casual clothes of any kind, and she suspected that Draco would appreciate it if she dressed appropriately for the next couple of days. He'd not said anything about the jeans, jumper and trainers that she'd worn yesterday (_and neither had Corban_, she thought, _but he'd seemed more interested in removing them_) but she could tell, from the way he looked at her, that he didn't entirely approve. She could pop back to her flat to change into her dress robe before the party on Saturday, of course, but she'd need something for the Sunday brunch. Plus, with all the excitement, she still had not managed to replace her old beaded bag. Although she truly disliked banking on her Golden Trio War Heroine laurels, clearly, now was the time to put those qualms aside and head back to Twilfitt and Tattings to set up her own charge account. If she was going to be playing with the Purebloods, she might as well be dressed like one.

It turned out that expensive wizarding casual clothes were not dissimilar to the country clothes that she recalled from BBC period dramas of the early 20th century (lots of tweed, wool and oxford-cloth), but, unlike those posh creations, the skirts, cardigans, blazers and trousers all included concealed wand-pockets, and everything was ready-to-wear with the aid of a few discreet tailoring spells. The purse to accompany all of the ensembles was an expensive-looking leather creation that greatly resembled an antique doctor's bag, except smaller, and with a shoulder strap… "Undetectable Extension Charm included, Miss," the shopkeeper said, when she opened it up, marveling at the storage, so that was all right. After she asked politely, the shopkeeper assisted her with a suitable party-planning ensemble, packed her jeans and jumper and her new purchases in the bag, helped her arrange her hair, suggested some pearl accessories (which Hermione bought), discreetly handed her a chit in a leather portfolio to sign, then escorted her to the shop's Floo connection, all just before noon.

Given the events of yesterday, she was slightly reticent to step into the flames, but when she arrived in the kitchen, the table was empty and no wizards were in evidence, so she sat at the table, Summoned a cuppa and started flipping through the _Prophet_. Thankfully she didn't have to wait that long; Theodore Nott came in the room, first looking a bit startled to see her sitting there, but he recovered quickly and came over to greet her, as she stood up.

"Theo!" Hermione said, smiling. After the marathon Runic study sessions during Eighth Year, they'd given up on the surname habit by mutual agreement.

"Hermione, it's a pleasure to see you," Theo replied, smiling back, as he bowed to her and kissed her knuckles. _Clearly_, Hermione thought, _my impromptu shopping trip was a good choice_. "Draco will be down shortly, and then he's going to arrange for lunch to be brought in by the Manor elves," he added, sitting down across from her and then Summoning his own tea. "You look well—how have things been going?"

"Oh—you know—just the usual, quit my Ministry job a while back, considering applying to Hogwarts for that Runes Professorship….how about you?"

"Taking care of things at the house, dealing with the trials—you know I was sent here, I suppose…and just got this wand yesterday…" he pointed at the wand sitting next to him at the table. "It's supposedly restricted but I haven't had any issues other than a goldfish appearing this morning when I was trying to Summon my hairbrush…" She'd noted in the _Prophet_ that in exchange for his participation in the parole programme, even though he'd not been a full-fledged Death Eater, he was essentially atoning for the sins of his father (as well as, presumably, his grandfather Cantankerus Nott who'd published the infamous Pure-Blood Directory). Thus, he'd had his original wand monitored while back at school, and had voluntarily submitted it to the Ministry (where it was being stored, not snapped) in return for the new one.

"That seems…random," Hermione said.

"Indeed, I'm fairly sure that Weasley meant it so and has probably built in all sorts of similar features along with the 25% chance of spell failure," Theo replied.

"Well, George will have his little jokes," Hermione said. Considering that Slytherins had often been the targets of the twins' humour while in school, she was not certain how Theo felt about Matters Weasley.

She was not to find out right away, though, because Draco appeared in the entranceway, followed closely by Corban and a taller, bearded man, who she recognized as Augustus Rookwood.

"Granger! Glad you're here," he said. He walked directly over to her seat, motioned at her not to get up, bowed quickly at her, and kissed her knuckles. _There must be some sort of politeness charm built into this blazer_, Hermione thought, as she replied, "Just got here, actually, Malfoy. Theo's been entertaining me."

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PAIRING VOTES AND NOTES:

(Skip if you don't want spoilers and also if you don't want to read noodling about various DEs.)

Here are the current votes:

Draco: 11  
Antonin: 9  
Rowle: 5  
Yaxley: 3  
Lucius: 2  
Macnair: 2  
Theo: 1

Any intelligent DE: 4  
Triad/more: 11

I've been writing about Macnair since 2002 (on and off), so he has a detailed backstory, which you can find in such fics as "Date with an Executioner" and "Nothing Else Matters" (various pairings). Many of the biographical details for him throughout this fic come from there. None of it is canon; all of it is fanon from the Cid62-niverse. This is my first time writing Draco as anything other than a cardboard cutout, my first time writing Theo at all, and my first time writing a redeemed (albeit gritty) Yaxley…so be kind, LOL. I'm having some issues with Dolohov, but for those of you who have voted for him, I promise I will try to do justice to him.

* * *

Because she might not get to ask them all, here is an abbreviated version of Hermione's Wizarding Dating Notes…illustrating what all is uppermost in her mind. It remains to be seen whether all these questions will be answered.

_Triads—how do they work in practice? Does everyone live together? Does everyone sleep together (not that kind of sleep, the regular kind)? Does everyone change their last name? Are the children all raised together and whose name do they get? How do expenses work? _

_Consorts—is that like being a mistress? How serious is it, exactly? Is there a formal agreement involved? _

_Yaxley—how many consorts did he have? Was he ever married before? What's the story with his manor house? How can I be sure he is truly not interested in blood purity? _

_Macnair—what happened with his wife—missed reading on that part of the trials and I can't trust the Prophet to be accurate. What's the deal with the party at his hunting lodge?_

_Divorces—Draco said that Malfoys didn't divorce, does anyone? At the end of the required Marriage Law period would everyone who was no longer interested just live separately and/or take consorts?_

_Marriage ceremony—are they all like Bill and Fleur's, which was grand (and I'd quite like one like that, but smaller)_

_Revels—will they be happening again, or was that just a DE thing?_

_Greg—we were dating, not much different from Muggle dating really, but was it a big deal that we were involved 'that way'?_

_Parkinson—was she Draco's consort/mistress, or were they just dating?_

_Ron—I rejected his proposal and gave back his ring, do I need to do any more than that to make sure he stays away? _

_Dolohov—why the heck is he involved with the Marriage Law? _


	11. Chapter 11

AUTHOR'S NOTES:

Here's another bonus chapter before the long (in the US, that is) weekend. As always, many thanks to all who have read, reviewed, favorited and followed this story so far. I _**really**_ appreciate it. Pairing votes and notes are once again at the end of the chapter—don't forget to cast a vote for your choice, as voting will be ending soon.

On with the show!

_**Chapter 11 - **__**Because he is the **__**neighbourhood**__**  
**_

"Good to hear it! Now, if everyone would please take a seat, I'll call the others, and lunch should be arriving shortly." Draco then tapped his wand on his throat and said, "Gentlemen-lunch is served!" Corban immediately strode over and took Hermione's hand, bowed, kissed her palm, and said, "Always a pleasure, Miss Granger," before taking the seat to her right.

Rookwood, who Hermione could not recall previously having met, gave a short bow in her direction and said, "Miss Granger," before sitting on the other side of the table opposite Theo. Hermione noticed that as he did, the table automatically enlarged a bit, and a couple of extra chairs spiraled into existence.

There was a slight awkward moment as both Draco and Walden (who'd entered the room silently and rapidly) attempted to take the seat on Hermione's left. Walden won by dint of holding his ground and staring intimidatingly, but before he was seated, he also bowed and kissed Hermione's palm. After he was settled, Draco put his hand on Hermione's shoulder and muttered, "Your guards are in place, I see—which is a good thing, I'll explain later, sorry in advance…and by the way, nice clothes, Granger." She looked up and stuck her tongue out at him, and he walked around the table, waved his wand to make another chair appear, and sat directly across from her, next to Theo.

Rowle, who looked as if he had just woken up—or possibly not slept well, Hermione recalled Draco saying he was a light sleeper—shambled in and took the seat between Draco and Rookwood, nodding at Hermione as he did so.

Hermione noticed, to her dismay, that there were two empty chairs left—both at opposite ends of the table-rather than just the one as she'd been expecting…well, really hoping, because she was almost positive she understood what Draco's pre-emptive apology was for. The two wizards who were heading for those chairs appeared in the doorway; the first was Lestrange. He glanced quickly around the table, nodded and muttered, "Miss Granger," and sat near Rookwood and Walden, who glared at him.

And then there was Dolohov, who said "_Zdravstvuyte, tovarishchi_," in the general direction of the room without looking in anyone's direction, sat down near Yaxley, and looked down at the table. He did not look good; although he was shaved and his hair was brushed and he looked clean, there were dark hollows under his eyes and his hands shook. Hermione had a bit of pity for him, even though his presence reminded her that she needed to take her anti-curse potion (she called it by his last name; the Diagon Alley Apothecary made it for her especially). And she could not turn off her ever-curious brain, and wondered if anyone in the group spoke Russian, or if possibly he'd formerly used a perpetual language translation spell, or worn a translation artifact, but was unable to do so now because of his magic being blocked. She knew from her scant study that he'd said something along the lines of "Greetings, friends," and she did not relish being included in that. She opened her bag quietly and Summoned the bottle of purple potion into her hand and sat it on the table.

She did not have to wonder about the language bit for long, either, as Corban growled, "English, Antonin," at him. _Oh no, were they friends? Would she be expected to socialize with him…or worse…if she were to choose Corban? _"Sorry," Dolohov grunted. "Good day, friends," he added, in heavily-accented English. _Awesome_, thought Hermione. _Thanks for the translation; still not your friend. And if you call me 'Hermi-o-ninny' like Viktor used to I'll hex your bollocks off._ "Good day, Miss Granger," he added, in her direction.

There was a long silence, and Hermione fervently hoped this meant that Dolohov wasn't popular among the other wizards. "Zippy, Galdy!" Draco finally said, a bit louder than normal, and two house-elves wearing green tea towels appeared, holding covered platters, which Theo moved over to the table. The elves appeared and reappeared three times, after which the entire table was covered with appetizing food. A drinks cart was parked near the fireplace and Walden stood up and began taking orders. Hermione chose soda water and lime. Draco and Theo used their wands to move the platters around to everyone; thankfully no goldfish or other random manifestations happened. Dolohov picked at his food and didn't order a drink from the cart. Hermione ensured that her wand was readily at hand in her blazer sleeve as she attempted to enjoy her quinoa salad and chicken with sun-dried tomatoes. Although it was rather delicious, it was nonetheless one of the most awkward meals she'd ever endured, including the time that she'd gotten Bubotuber pus delivered in the owl post at school, or the last Sunday dinner she'd gone to at the Burrow, the weekend after she'd kicked Ron out. Once she was finished with her food, she downed the purple potion slowly, looking pointedly at Dolohov while she did so. He didn't meet her gaze.

Toward the end of the meal, Corban slid his hand onto her thigh and caressed her a bit before he stood up. "Pardon me, Draco, but I believe Antonin's had enough for now—Gus, would you assist?" Dolohov had slumped over in his chair and appeared to be drooling. Rookwood immediately stood up and walked around the table.

"Yes, yes, Corban—wait, I'll come with you. Excuse me, gentlemen, and Granger? I'll be back in a moment and we'll have pudding and coffee." Draco stood up, and Corban grabbed Dolohov by the arm and yanked him out of his chair, none too gently. "Come along, laddie," he growled. "Back to bed for ya."

"_Bilyat_, Corbanya! _Pizdets_!" yelped Dolohov, as he was dragged to his feet. He looked like he was only partially awake and completely unaware of his surroundings.

"Don't bother to translate that, Antonin," Corban said. He didn't ask any of the others for help as he continued to drag Dolohov out of the room, but when they reached the door, Rookwood took the wizard's other arm and Draco followed along behind them, wand at the ready. After a couple of minutes, Hermione heard the repeated thump of boot heels against the stairs, sounding very much as if Dolohov was being dragged up them. _Draco should have levitated him, _Hermione thought. _Or else I should have helped out with a Levicorpus_.

The house-elves bustled around, removing the decimated platters and replacing them with covered pudding dishes, a coffee urn, sugar and cream, and a stack of cups and saucers. Hermione watched the activity blankly. Walden got up and made her a drink and she drank it mechanically; it was a very good G&T. Nobody said anything until Draco, Corban and Rookwood returned.

"Well," Draco said, clearing his throat. "I think we can safely declare the reintroduction of Antonin into society a debacle, for now."

"I should say so," Theo added. "He was bloody well drooling onto his plate."

"No one is able to recover from Azkaban quickly," Rookwood stated, in his booming voice. "And Antonin was in there longer than most of us."

"He told me yesterday they didn't bother to put him in the rehabilitation centre or give him any potions, they just chucked him straight out. Plus, he makes Miss Granger uncomfortable, and he might make others uncomfortable as well," Corban growled. "He needs to stay in his room until these festivities are over, for his own good."

"Hear, hear," added Rowle. "He'll make the rest of us look bad, and I, for one, really want to end up with some decent witch as a result of this Marriage Law."

"I wasn't intending that he participate in the parties," Draco said. "He very politely asked if he could join us for lunch when I checked in yesterday. He clearly needs a lot more recovery time. I won't make that mistake again. Sorry, Granger…" and he let his voice trail off with a sigh as he waved his wand in the direction of the coffee, poured himself a cup, and then turned toward the drinks cart and caused a bottle of brandy to upend itself over his coffee. He then sat back down at the table, pulled out a notebook, and made a couple of notes in it.

Corban, meanwhile, leaned over and whispered in Hermione's ear, "I'm sorry I didn't get him out of here sooner, Hermione," after which he returned his hand to her thigh.

"Corban, have you offered for Miss Granger again? Only I thought she turned you down the other day, and you two seem awfully close," Rowle said, as he reached for a slice of pie.

"None of yer business, laddie," Walden said, glaring at Rowle.

"Oh, so you're marrying her too, Walden? Didn't think you'd gotten over that American witch yet. Of course it has been ten years," Rowle sniped, as he finished the slice of pie in three bites and reached for a second. He was unable to load the confection onto his plate, though, because Walden grabbed the pie and moved it to the other side of the table, saying, "Ye've had enough, Thorfinn, ye knobdobber, save some for the rest of us!"

"Doesn't look like you're saving any of the decent witches for the rest of _us_, Wally. And I only play with my own knob," Rowle said, as he stood up.

Draco stood up, whipped his wand into the air and caused a small explosion. "That's it! Shut up, you lot, we have work to do!" The paroled Death Eaters looked rather abashed, and Hermione just stared at him. "And where the fuck are Selwyn and Travers?"

"We're over here, Draco," Travers said. He and Selwyn were both standing in the corner of the room and balancing full plates in their hands. Hermione blinked; she hadn't even noticed them come in.

"Could I be excused for a moment?" Hermione said. She patted Corban's hand, stood up, and walked out of the room to the loo, where she shut herself in one of the cubicles she'd created the previous day and sat on the closed lid of the privy. _This is a mistake; I should just get out of here now and come back when the party starts. They don't need me_, she thought. To make matters worse, the proximity of Dolohov had made her scar start to throb angrily—the potion hadn't yet had its soporific effect on the wound. Tears came to her eyes and she grabbed some of the loo roll and dabbed at them and blew her nose. She sat there for rather a long time, until a glimmering silver ferret appeared through the door and said, in Draco's voice, "Come on back, Hermione, they've all promised to behave."

She sniffed and giggled at the ferret at the same time, which caused her to snort in a very unladylike fashion, then used the loo, rearranged her clothes, exited the stall, washed her hands thoroughly, splashed a bit of water on her face, and returned to the kitchen.

Walden, Theo, Lestrange and Rowle were no longer at the table, which had shrunk accordingly. Draco, Corban and Rookwood all stood up when she entered the room. Selwyn and Travers were lurking together against the far wall.

"Nice ferret, Malfoy," Hermione said.

Draco winked at her. "I've sent the others off to work on their various assignments. We need to put the beverage order in and get the music sorted. Hermione, if you have any requests, let Thorfinn know when we go in there to decorate. Let's have some more coffee and talk over logistics. I sent the drinks cart away—it's probably best if we have these—"and he gestured to four Sober-Up Potions sitting on the table, next to his open notebook and pen. Hermione was able to glimpse, upside down, notes with tick marks next to them reading "Drinks Order, Music Selection" and others that read "Crowd Control Schedule, Refreshment Schedule, Introductions." Draco had very neat handwriting.

Corban patted the seat next to him and Hermione sat back down and examined the bottle of Sober-Up. "Does this interact with anything, do you know?"

"Don't think so, but scan if you're not entirely sure," Draco replied. "Oh…Selwyn? Travers? Did you all have drinks?"

"No, Macnair didn't offer us any," Travers said. _He probably didn't even notice them, _Hermione thought. _Which is saying something_.

"Er…Gus, would you mind escorting them…all of you just go on in there—"Draco gestured to the main room, "And help whoever needs it. Move that couch against the wall…and see if you can find the other bloody couch," he added. Rookwood stepped over to the table and picked up his potion, then herded the other two toward the door.

"We turned that couch into a barrier," Hermione said, after the three wizards walked off and she scanned herself and then the bottle of potion, then uncorked it and drank it. Being tipsy on top of all the emotional turmoil seemed rather a poor life choice.

"Right, but there were three before." Draco said, scowling. "I can't believe those freeloaders who drink here would walk off with it, but we do get all kinds."

"It's…er…behind the barrier," Hermione said, quietly. Corban slid his hand onto her thigh.

"How'd it get there?" Draco stuck his pen behind his ear and dropped his head into his hands. "Do I want to know?"

"We put it there, Draco," Corban said. "I'll bloody well move it back out after those chairs, tables and tablecloths show up and I polish the sodding floor."

"Fine, fine," Draco said, absently. "Now, onto the dress code and the decorations."

Hermione couldn't help herself, and raised her hand. Draco chuckled. "This isn't Hogwarts. You can interrupt me if you wish, Granger."

Hermione started laughing. "Sorry, old habits, Malfoy—must have been your ferret that reminded me." _There must have been something in that potion_, she thought, _or else Draco did a surreptitious Cheering Charm; normally I'd be annoyed, but in this case, thank Merlin_. "Er…should all of you…er, club personnel….really be wearing all black…do you think?" she said, once she was able to regain her composure a bit.

"Good point, _Harmony_, I hadn't even thought of that. Er...I'd suggest dark green, but that might be a little much, as well. Black and white seems too….."

"Waiter-like?" Hermione interjected. "And not everyone is a waiter. What about grey—or silver, for the Silver Serpent?"

"Yes, perfect—light grey tunics, dark grey trousers, conservative cut—everyone will look good and understated, we don't want too much flash. Theo should be able to handle that once he's done picking up the beverage order," Draco said, making a note. "And we can coordinate the walls and the furniture…" he said.

"Those of us on crowd control should be wearing waistcoats or similar…" Corban added, and Draco nodded and made another note. "Good point."

"And…add some accent rugs, conversation areas, maybe a small dance floor—"Hermione said, fondly remembering the Yule Ball.

Draco nodded. "Was already going to put a dance floor next to the DJ station—I'll put in some extra lighting, not too much, though, possibly some wall murals, something that is romantic without being…you know, too over-the-top…"

"Too Lockhart?" Hermione added, and Draco looked at her and they both burst out laughing.

"Bloody well right," Draco said, still chuckling a bit. "Don't want anyone comparing this place to a _fresh-pickled toad_," he added.

"Should we sing that to Harry when he shows up?" Hermione said, unable to contain herself.

"Long as you leave out that last line—see if you can find something to rhyme with Pretender," Draco said, continuing to laugh. Corban's hand tightened on Hermione's thigh, but he gamely went along with things and interjected, "September? Remember?"

"_Tryyyyyy to remember—the kind of September_…." Hermione sang.

"Should I go ask Finn to play that?" Corban said, as he began to chuckle. "Only I've never heard it before."

"You wouldn't have," Hermione said, with a smile. "It was my parents' favorite, a little bit…er, out of your worldview." _Then again_, she thought, _so was the music they'd danced to yesterday. Clearly, he was adaptable. _She picked up her coffee mug and took a long drink.

"They had a nice residence, yeah," Corban said. "Do ya still live there?"

Hermione was definitely glad for the effects of the charm and the various potions as she tried, very hard, not to think of malevolent, possibly-Imperiused Corban breaking into her former home searching for her, or her parents. "I sold that house; I have a flat near Diagon," she replied, after a short pause.

"Was just asking, sweetheart," he said, lifting up her hand and kissing it. "I can only travel on foot within a mile radius from here when I go out—Draco puts restrictions on all of us—and I'm barred from Diagon and the Min…er, a few other places."

"I'm—I'm sorry," Hermione said, turning toward him. He'd been about to say the Ministry, she knew, and regardless of how he'd massively screwed up there, she knew it had to hurt him.

"Did it to meself," Corban grunted. "Should have been a _dissenter_," he said, and winked at her as he moved closer to her, and she smiled back and he closed the distance and kissed her. Hermione kissed him back, allowing herself to fade into the moment and recalling just a bit too late, when she heard various throat-clearing noises, that they weren't alone at the table.

"Pardon me, Granger?" Draco said. "We need to talk."

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PAIRING VOTES AND NOTES:

(Skip if you don't want spoilers and also if you don't want to read noodling about various DEs.)

Here are the current votes. I'll be closing voting just before the party—but that doesn't mean that there won't still be surprises in store—after all, to quote Han Solo…"Hey…it's me!"

Draco: 13  
Antonin: 9  
Rowle: 5  
Yaxley: 3  
Lucius: 2  
Macnair: 2  
Theo: 2

Any intelligent DE: 4  
Triad/more: 13

I'm still having issues with Dolohov, folks. I've never written him before—there are many great portrayals of him in lots of other fics. I fear that I may have to eliminate him from the running, but I promise he will at _least_ be a little more functional as the fic continues and there will be a discussion between him and Hermione about 'that spell'.


	12. Chapter 12

_**Chapter 12 - **__**You can get money for blood**__**  
**_

"Oh…sorry, Draco—er…what did you want to discuss?" Hermione asked, withdrawing from the kiss and looking straight at him.

"_I'm _not sorry," Corban said, as he returned his hand to Hermione's thigh and began massaging it.

"I can rather see that," Draco said, closing his notebook and setting his pen on the table. "As you, _Harmony_, should see that it's obvious what I want to discuss-or should I simply assume that you've made your choice? Only I didn't get to have my say and I loathe assumptions."

Without missing a beat, Hermione moved her wand into her hand from her blazer sleeve and cast a silent Muffliato around the trio, then said, "I haven't made _any_ choice as of yet." Corban gave what sounded an awful lot like a very satisfied grunt as he tightened his hand on Hermione's thigh yet again. "Nicely done," he finally said, quietly, but he was breathing rather hard.

"That so, Corban?" Draco said. "It looks like you have, though, yeah? Unless you're just sitting there and soaking up her magic like some sort of animated sponge."

Corban scowled at Draco. "Of course I have, only I haven't formally asked her. I made a rather poor first impression, you see. Should have just asked her when she first came in the Serpent that night, but—well, Walden was rather monopolizing her time. If you're here to witness, Draco, seeing as her father is currently unavailable, and I'd prefer to do the thing right, I'd appreciate it."

"What?!" Hermione interjected.

"Ya heard me," Corban grunted.

"You're supposed to be on the day shift, what were you doing lurking about…oh, never mind. Look, Hermione, I did suggest that you make your choice a couple of days ago," Draco said. "And as you may not have noticed, I've already added my offer to the table. Of course, since you weren't raised in our culture—and hold on…pardon…" he held his hand up, as Hermione had opened her mouth and was clearly readying herself for a rather lengthy comment. "That _is_ the most tasteful way of saying it…please allow me to finish…"

Hermione nodded.

"As I was saying—I gave you a rather nice gift the other day, from T&T—and that sort of gift given from an unmarried wizard to an unmarried witch is traditionally meant to signify a betrothal offering." He smiled. "Weaselette didn't bother to mention that, did she?

"No, she suggested you were trying to bribe me," Hermione said.

"Well, that too," Draco said. "I really do need this party to go well. There are more than a few Ministry functionaries who'd like to see me host an utter catastrophe so they can cancel my program and send the lot of you—" he gestured in Corban's direction"—straight back to Azkaban." He frowned and there was a short silence at the table, which Hermione broke.

"Malfoy…" and she looked at the half-empty bottle of Sober-Up Potion that sat, uncorked, in front of Draco. "I—er…thought you didn't imbibe."

"I bloody well don't normally. Brandy reminds me too much of my father," Draco said, after he drank the rest of the potion.

"May I—er…may I ask some questions before we go on?" Hermione said, reaching in her purse for her notebook. Draco chuckled. "I would say you're quite the swot but I can't throw stones." He looked down at his own notebook.

"Is there some sort of book I can read about all this to… catch up?" Hermione began.

Corban chuckled. "There are several—to say the least. Had you been _raised in our culture_, as Draco said, your mother…or possibly one of your elves…would have been reading them to you at bedtime."

"Oh, _that_ sounds delightful," Hermione snarked, and then cleared her throat. "Right, then. So what's a consort, exactly, and how does that fit into this Marriage Law?"

Both Draco and Corban looked rather uncomfortable and glanced at each other. Corban nodded at Draco, and Draco spoke up. "Er. I think Muggles call consorts 'mistresses,'—at least that is what my father says-and...well, taking one on wouldn't satisfy the requirements, I checked. Handfastings are acceptable, consort arrangements are not. Although of course they are considered formal by wizarding tradition, and they can be with a witch or wizard…many do go that route, especially if they have already…er, made provisions for an heir."

Hermione already knew, from her research on the Hallows, that wizarding families, sadly, were patriarchal, with very few exceptions. "So, Mr Yaxley," she said, switching back to formal address, because the subject made her more than a little uncomfortable, "Were you married—or did you have a consort?"

"I had four consorts, Miss Granger." Hermione noticed he'd moved his hand off her thigh and wasn't sure if she was disappointed or relieved.

"Did you really?" Draco said, unable to stifle his smile. "Did you have a Time-Turner, then?"

Hermione bravely soldiered on. "And…all of them are…er, out of the picture?" _Should I ask who they were—well, other than Madam Hopkirk, who I've already impersonated, and how awkward is that? What if he'd tried to make a move while I was there? _

"I told ya that the other day," Corban said, sharply. "Had any of them provided me an heir I would have married them—well, except the two who were already married. It doesn't matter; the month after the battle all of them sent me owls or came to visit me in Azkaban and broke things off."

_Broken up with by owl_, Hermione thought, _almost as cold as the North Sea_! "Bit chilly in here, eh?" Draco said, and Hermione looked at him and they attempted to stifle their laughter, because it seemed rather impolite.

"Hmph," Corban said.

_New York City is starting to look like a viable option_, Hermione thought, and figured she'd better move the conversation along to other matters. "Er, so, Mr Yaxley-Corban," she said. "Am I to understand that you would, er, like to make a proposal?"

"I would," he said. "Of marriage, not a consort agreement. I've not currently much to offer—I cannot yet provide you with the traditional gifts as my vault is restricted-but were we to marry, I believe the Ministry might permit us to inhabit my house on a limited, supervised basis. And you would be able to sit on the Wizengamot, in my stead."

Hermione could not stifle a smile at his last words. "_That_ counts as a gift to me." _On the other hand_, she thought, _New York would be a fabulous place to visit—possibly in an official capacity_.

"Thought it might, sweetheart," he said, as he slipped his hand back onto her thigh.

"All right then—Malfoy—er, Draco?" she stumbled over her words a bit.

"Do call me Draco when we're discussing such things as marriage, Hermione," he said. "We can go back to old Hogwarts custom later. My offer stands. No offense, and please don't think that I'm trying to rush you, but we are on a deadline here-I was hoping we could get the decorating done before…oh, say 9 tonight so everyone could rest up for tomorrow." She wondered, idly, if she were a line item in Draco's notebook and decided that she really didn't want to know.

"None taken. So…er….that's how a proposal is done among wizards?" Hermione said. "Only it seems just as cold as breaking up via owl." Hermione thought of the notes that her Muggle prep school classmates had begun to pass round during her last year there. As she'd been somewhat of a social outcast, she'd not got any, but they were usually rather to the point: "_Do you like me? Check Yes or No_." She attempted, unsuccessfully, to not picture Corban receiving the wizarding equivalent in his Azkaban cell.

Draco laughed. "No, no, there's a ceremony—we swear on our magic—it's somewhat like an Unbreakable Vow, but not quite as binding, because engagements can be broken, of course. The ceremonies for a consort agreement and a handfasting are similar."

"I _don't have_ me bloody magic to swear on," Corban said, tightly.

"Well, we can swear on mine. Shall we offer together in the ancient ceremony, Corban?" and Hermione felt, as Draco's language became very archaic and ritualistic, as if the temperature in the room had dropped, even though the sound-muffling spell didn't do that.

"What….what's going on?" she finally managed. _They're __**both**__ proposing?_ she thought. _Well, Ginny did say it happened among the older families—and they are Sacred Twenty-Eight…and Mr Macnair said that I didn't just have to choose one, yesterday…_

Draco walked around the table and looked pointedly at Corban, who stood up and moved next to him. Both wizards then knelt in front of Hermione.

"Er…I haven't had a chance to ask the rest of my questions," Hermione began.

"Hush, Granger, we can hold an extra-credit seminar later," Draco said, as he took Corban's hand, clasped it firmly, and tapped his wand on top of their clasped hands. "I, Draco Lucius Malfoy…" and he paused, "And I, Corban Thomas Yaxley," and Draco continued, "We two wizards do humbly request to thee, Hermione Granger, that thou would do us the honour of becoming our lady wife, so that by our magic, we might pledge unto thee our troth."

There was a very long silence in the room that was not a result of Severus Snape's signature spell.

_Am I likely to get any better offers?_, she immediately thought, and then realized that sounded rather Slytherin, not like her at all; her recent associations must be rubbing off on her metaphorically…as well as literally—the thought of Corban's attentions made her stomach give that traitorous flip yet again. She did get along rather well with Draco, and even though he'd indicated Malfoys didn't divorce, well, with two husbands, she was likely to not get tired of either of them. And, of course, as Draco had pointed out the other day, there was a greater chance of getting those awful Marriage Law requirements fulfilled faster. _But…what would the mechanics of __**that**__ be like? Would they all three be sleeping together…not just for rest, but…for real, until the thing was done? _She took a long breath in through her nostrils, attempting to calm herself. _I __**could**__ take my chances with the Ministry_, and immediately rejected that as a rubbish option…._yeah, go to the same corrupt place that treated me like a second-class citizen on the one hand while handing me a substantial reward on the other_. Of course, Mr Macnair had made an offer as well, but….she couldn't help feeling that he was still too heartbroken from his wife's death, even if it had been ten years gone, so it was probably best for him to take a chance with an assigned pairing, seeing as how whoever he ended up with might just stick around long enough to fulfill the requirements—in a temporary marriage, or an old-fashioned handfasting, she guessed. There were, of course, the other parolees, but none of them seemed like good choices except possibly Theo, but although he'd been cordial to her for many years he hadn't ever made any sort of untoward move…or any sort of move, for that matter. And finally, there _was_ still the option of running away and avoiding the entire business altogether, but she was, after all, a Gryffindor.

She cleared her throat. "It's Hermione Jean, by the way," she said, and after a short pause, added, "Yes."

"Take our hands, Granger," Draco said. "In both of yours," he added. The minute she did, she felt the waves of their combined power flow around her, and she took a deep breath. "It is done," Draco said. "We shall seal this promise with our kisses." Both he and Corban, without letting go of her hands, stood up, and gently pulled her to her feet. Draco kissed her first, very chastely (but it felt rather nice), and then Corban followed up with a not-so-chaste kiss which involved a lot of tongue and him groaning not-so-quietly into her mouth. Draco had to clear his throat once again. "Save it for after we're done getting set up, if you _don't_ mind. If you behave I'll take that block off you temporarily for the wedding night. And I'll go to Gringotts in a moment; I'll get something for you as well, _and_ I'll send the owl to the Ministry."

"Draco, laddie," came a voice from outside the sound-muffling bubble. "Och!" There was a pause, during which Walden had obviously figured out what had just occurred. "Well, _shite_," he said, sounding rather disappointed. "Guess I'll have ta see if I can find a witch at the party."

"Oh…" Hermione said, as she relinquished both their hands and waved her wand and muttered, "Finite." She sat back down in the chair, and Corban sat back down next to her and took her hand in his.

"What do you need, Walden?" Draco asked, rather pleasantly, as he walked round the table and picked up his notebook and pen yet again.

"Need to place that beverage order, young Nott said he could go do it." He handed a slip of parchment to Draco, who glanced at it quickly and nodded.

"Plans have changed; I've got to go to Gringotts so I'll just drop it off while I'm down Diagon," Draco said, as he stowed the parchment and his notebook and pen in his pocket. "I'll go talk to Theo with you."

"Er, should I be doing anything to assist?" Hermione asked.

"Well, if you don't mind waiting here—"Draco said, smiling at her as he summoned two copies of the Prophet and a tray of tea things. "There's a little matter we need to take care of when I get back. And…oh yes… the chairs, tables and tablecloths should be arriving soon—they'll be coming through the Floo. Hermione, if you could assist Corban with that, I'd appreciate it; they'll need to be moved in the other room and unshrunk. Cheers," he said, as he strode off down the corridor.

Walden approached Hermione and Corban and said, "I give ye congratulations from meself and me family. May your union be fruitful and prosperous," and he reached out and shook Corban's hand, and then took Hermione's hand and kissed her knuckles.

"I thank ya, brother," Corban said.

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PAIRING VOTES AND NOTES:

(Skip if you don't want spoilers and also if you don't want to read noodling about various DEs and other things.)

Voting is closed-thank you all for your votes! I may have to do another fic like that in the future.

The winners are (for now, haha, as noted in this chapter), as chosen by me….

_**Draco  
Yaxley (his middle name in this fic isn't canon, but his first name is)  
And by default-any intelligent DE (both of them are intelligent…OBviously)  
Triad/polyfic– you've got it! (It remains to be seen how triad-y it will get)**_

Of course, they're not married yet AND the party hasn't happened yet, so who knows, I might surprise y'all...

I really really wanted to call Twilfitt and Tattings T-Squared, like we used to call Brooks Brothers B-Squared in days of yore, but I resisted.

There is (or was, really..) a fic in which Yaxley and Mafalda Hopkirk were paired up and I can no longer find it to give proper attribution—Hermione's aside is a reference to that.


	13. Chapter 13

_**Chapter 13 - **__**Blood money for doing no good**_

Hermione and Corban sat companionably at the table for a while and enjoyed their tea and papers. _It's a slow news day_, Hermione thought, _but it likely won't be tomorrow_—she knew that once Draco sent his letter to the Ministry, registering the engagement, that it would be best for her to not answer owls for a while. She'd need to owl Ginny (and Harry, by default) so that they didn't get the news from Rita Skeeter. Corban didn't initiate conversation with her, but he seemed rather less annoyed- he had a small smile on his face and was humming to himself.

They were eventually interrupted from this pleasant interlude by a chime over the fireplace. Corban stood up and walked over to the Floo.

"Silver Serpent, may I help ya," he drawled.

"Millamant's Magic Marquees," said the bored-looking wizard. "Delivery for you," and he handed a small box through the flames to Corban. "We'll be calling to pick it up on Tuesday, thank you for doing business with Millamant's, have a magical day," he added, sounding simultaneously bored and sarcastic as he retreated out of the flames.

"Do all the deliveries come through there?" Hermione asked.

"All except my doughnuts; they come from a Muggle shop," Corban said, as he sat the box on the table. To Hermione, it appeared to be the size of a box of computer paper, which reminded her of the times she'd occasionally assisted at her parents' dental practice. It was addressed to "_Mr D Malfoy, The Silver Serpent, Soho_ and had a small list of contents and instructions atop it.

Hermione stared at him.

"What? I like chocolate and they're tasty; didn't ya have some?"

Hermione kept staring.

"I no longer have that prejudice, as I said. It was quite literally beaten out of me in a lengthy re-education programme. And, to answer one of your other unasked questions from earlier: Madam Selwyn, Madam Malfoy, and Dahlia Parkinson." He picked up the tea things and the _Prophets_ and moved them to the counter near the sink, then brought a stack of parchment and quills over and set them down on the table. "I bloody well _hate_ asking ya to help me with this," and he gestured at the box.

"Madam _Malfoy_?" Hermione said. "And how did you know I was going to ask that? _And_ as long as you're not asking me to help clean the loos, I'm fine."

"Suppose she has a type," Corban replied; "And I read over your shoulder; I'll tell ya about me house later. Bet you're relieved I didn't say the Frog Princess was one of 'em, eh…not that she didn't try! As for the loos, Draco has them charmed, they mostly clean themselves. However, I do need to fetch that sodding floor polisher. It's bad enough that I have to work like a house-elf…er…sorry," he said. "I mean a servant, a drudge…but I have to do it in front of ya."

"I'll polish the floor," Hermione interjected. "When I was here the other morning, it sounded as if that machine was in imminent danger of explosion. And, er, does Dahlia Parkinson have a sister?" She decided to not acknowledge the comment obliquely mentioning Umbridge. Some things were best left unimagined.

"Yes, a younger one. She came with her to Azkaban when Dahlia and Clara visited ta dump me."

_So, Madams Malfoy and Hopkirk had been the ones to send the tacky Dear Corban owls_, Hermione thought. _Wonder if Hopkirk sent hers from the Ministry; Improper Use of_…she had to stop that train of thought, lest she start chortling to herself. She'd deliberately gone out of her way to avoid Madam Hopkirk while in her Ministry job. She cleared her throat. "Er, well, let's head in there." She started to pick up the box, but Corban gave her a look and picked it up.

The box turned out to contain—according to the legend on top, which read Millamant's Instant Indoor Soiree for 450—round tables with tablecloths and chairs allotted to each, food serving tables, a dance floor, some small cushioned chairs and occasional tables, dark grey area rugs, strings of fairy lights (artificial), and lastly, a marquee to be hung from the ceiling. Hermione was abruptly reminded of Bill and Fleur's wedding, and fervently hoped that the party guests—particularly Ron, Harry and Ginny—wouldn't recognize where the decorations came from, considering how that event had ended. Meanwhile, most of the paroled Death Eaters, rather than looking busy, were clustered around the bar doing shots. _Of course_, Hermione thought, _they really can't do much without wands_. She did notice that the temporary barrier had been moved aside and the couch retrieved from behind it, and Rowle and Lestrange were at the DJ station, chatting with each other and making lists. Corban squeezed her hand when he saw her looking at the couch.

When Walden looked up and caught a glimpse of them, he immediately said, loudly, to the assembled company, "Brothers, let us all congratulate Corban and Miss Granger."

"Only you should probably wait until Draco gets back to do that," Hermione said.

"He wasna just yer witness, then, lass?" Walden asked, as he moved a bottle back behind the bar and gestured at the shot glasses. With a swipe of his wand, Theo cleaned them and returned them to their rack.

"He is our third," Corban said, and Hermione wondered if Draco didn't think that Corban was _their_ third, but she tucked that thought away to address later and moved her wand over the Millamant's box, which sat on one of the couches, to open it. She and Corban peered inside, but the only visible item was the marquee.

Corban clapped his hands loudly. "All right, ya lot, clear off the floor, got to clean it now."

"Where are we supposed to go?" asked either Selwyn or Travers (Hermione wasn't sure which one was which, and felt odd asking).

"You three go back to the kitchen, watch the Floo and the Apparition point, and start making the rota for the door and crowd control. The rest of you are fine if you stay behind your stations and don't track all over me clean floor," and he gestured at Walden and Theo, who were behind the bar intently studying a piece of parchment. Rookwood, Selwyn and Travers obligingly trooped away.

"Ahhhh…the Department Head of Non-Magical Clean Floor Enforcement hath spoken," Lestrange said. "Let us _all_ take notice."

Corban growled. "Not going to lend ya me gramophone if ya keep spoutin' that rubbish."

"Sorry, Corban," Lestrange said, insincerely. "Only can you go get it, then? I can't get in your room and we need to start working on _our_ bloody _rota_," he added.

"When I get to it, Roddy. Miss Granger, if you would-" and he pointed at the floor. Hermione obligingly swept her wand low and muttered a spell that she recalled from numerous afternoons at the Burrow, after which the floor shone and sparkled.

"Looks as if you've been replaced, Yax," Lestrange said. "Only that shouldn't be a new experience," after which he tapped a button on the gramophone and "Bad Things" wound up slowly and began playing at a too-low speed, sounding much like a twangy funeral dirge. "Sweet Salazar," he grumbled. "Who's been fucking with this? We need two working turntables." Corban strode over to the DJ station and stood in front of the other wizard, his arms crossed. "Shut it, Roddy."

"Bloody well make me," Lestrange said. Rowle elbowed him and handed him a record, which played at the proper speed and turned out to be "Do the Hippogriff," and Walden slapped his hands on the bar, growled, and went over and stood next to Corban.

"Turn that the fuck off, laddie," he said, quietly.

"Make me," Lestrange said, smirking at both of them.

An explosion sounded from Theo's wand, and he walked over to the four wizards and said, "I'll Floo the Aurors and have the whole lot of you sent back to Azkaban. Now shut the sodding hell up and get back to work."

"You're _**not**_ in charge," Lestrange said, smirking. "That restricted wand might fizzle and what would you do then, boy?"

"_Mine's_ not restricted," Hermione said, as she flicked her wand in the direction of the feuding wizards and cast a nonverbal Immobulus, then at the gramophone to stop it playing. "Go ahead, Theo, if you need to use the Floo."

"What in the name of Salazar's bloody nightshirt is going on here?" Draco shouted, as he walked up behind Hermione.

"Our brothers are bickering, yet again," Theo sighed.

"Right," Draco said, with a similar sigh. "If you lot can't behave, you're not attending the soiree. I can't afford a cock-up. That includes you, Corban," he added. "Granger, go ahead and let them go, will you?" He waved his wand and moved the couches in a semi-circle. "Sit!" he said. The parolees slowly walked over and sat down. Hermione perched on the arm of the couch where Draco and Corban and the Millamant's box sat. Draco flicked his wand in the direction of the kitchen and the three other wizards returned to the room and sat down.

"I hear congratulations are in order," Lestrange said, "And let me be the first. Of course, Miss Granger, if you tire of the dubious attentions of these reprobates, I'm still available."

Hermione couldn't help herself and blurted, "Only I _don't_ accept sloppy seconds from demented maniacs."

Rowle was the first to start laughing. "Corban, I'm so _bloody_ jealous," he said, as the others joined in.

Theo, sensing that the tension in the room had leveled out, waved his wand and brought a bottle of champagne and glasses to the circle, and distributed them among the parolees. "Let us toast our first engagement," he said. "To Miss Granger, to Draco, and to Corban," he said, raising his glass. Hermione wondered about the name order and once again filed that comment away for later. The rest of the wizards held their glasses up, muttered various forms of "Congratulations," and drank their champagne. Draco, who had not accepted a glass, stood up and motioned that Corban should do the same; he handed a small pouch to the other wizard, and then reached in his pocket and withdrew a second pouch.

"Miss Granger," Draco said, "I give you this token of our engagement," and he produced a large gold ring with an entwined ruby and emerald, which he extended toward Hermione. "For your left hand," he added. Hermione put on the ring and it immediately re-sized to fit.

Meanwhile, Corban was emptying out his pouch; instead of a single ring, as Hermione had expected, it contained three items—a golden pocketwatch on a chain, a large, elaborate silver ring that resembled two entwined serpents, and a smaller rose-gold ring with a square-cut green stone and elaborate Celtic accents.

Corban inhaled sharply and said, "I am in yer debt, mate."

Draco nodded and remained silent.

"Miss Granger, I give ya this token of our engagement," Corban said, after a short pause. He extended the rose-gold ring toward Hermione, who put it on her right ring finger—it also immediately re-sized to fit.

"Right, then," said Draco, after everyone had finished their drinks. "No more escapades. Get on with it!"

Theo cleaned the champagne glasses and sent them whizzing over to their appointed places at the bar, and then motioned at Walden; the two wizards returned to their drinks schedule. Rowle and Lestrange stood up and headed back toward the DJ station. Rookwood, Selwyn and Travers stood up and started meandering toward the kitchen.

Corban, who'd put the large silver ring on his right ring finger and stowed his pocketwatch, approached Hermione, put his arm around her and said, quietly, "Sweetheart, I need to go fetch me gramophone and records for Roddy. I'd ask ya to come up with me but, er…" and he paused. "There's not enough time right now for me to give ya proper attention," he finished.

Draco approached and said, "Too right there's not," reached for Hermione's hand, and kissed her palm. "We have work to do—go on, Corban, get one of the others on the way to help you. Harmony and I need to start decorating."

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AUTHOR'S NOTES:

Draco is, as ever, a pragmatist, as I stated in the synopsis. This is the first time I've written him as a sympathetic character, so thank you all for being kind.

And not everyone is a Yaxley fan, I realize this. I tend to like rarepairs…but Hermione will continue to have LOTS of interaction with Draco in future chapters. Yax is mostly craving the peace and quiet of his ancestral home, and an heir. If anyone has any better Yax gifs that show exactly what that ring he's wearing in DH1 looks like, I'd appreciate it. I went with serpents because they're always a safe bet with Slythies.

To lakelady8425: I, too, like Theo—I have other plans for him; his future partner has actually already briefly appeared in the fic. As for the age thing…I understand (considering that I aged Walden Macnair down considerably for a previous fic). If it helps at all, as I said above, there will be a LOT more Draco interaction in later chapters, and this fic is set in 2008, thus Hermione is 28 (or closer to 29, due to the Time-Turner). Peter Mullan, who played Yaxley in DH1&2, has a rather weathered face and was in his late 40s/early 50s, I believe, when DH1 was released. I have not been able to find a suitable fancast, so suggestions are welcome for a younger (40s) blond actor who would look good with a braided queue. (I'm older so I personally find him attractive, YMMV…especially the queue.)


	14. Chapter 14

_**Fancast Update**_ – Please see notes at the end of this chapter for updates/additions!

_**Chapter 14 - **__**Better tell me now, have you made your selection?**_

"So…" Draco began. "Walls and lighting first, do you think?" He stood up, extended his arm to Hermione, and they strolled together to the center of the club.

"I should think so," Hermione responded. "Light grey for the walls? And I'd go ahead and leave the serpent light fixtures; they won't look nearly as venomous next to those fairy lights…" She paused. "You'd already put in the order for that marquee with all those features, before we even discussed it, hadn't you?"

"Of course, I just had to adjust the numbers; my mother would be appalled if I hadn't thought of all those things straight off," Draco said. "But great minds clearly think alike, Granger. You do the walls; I'll add the extra lighting and fix those couches. Count of three again, then?" The colour change and the extra fixtures immediately lightened up the room. Draco twirled his wand around the three couches (including the former barrier), turning them light grey and smartening them up, and then slid them over toward the front door.

"I think we can leave the floor as is," Hermione said, gesturing at the shiny dark grey linoleum.

"I should say so! How long did it take him to do that?" Draco asked. "It usually doesn't look half this nice; I can practically see my reflection in it."

"I did it, with a little help from Mrs Weasley."

"You weren't technically supposed to be assisting him," Draco said. "That duty is part of my rehabilitative parole programme, and is meant to be practical and, er, well…."

"Humbling, I'd suspect," Hermione finished.

"Exactly so. But I can let it slide in the interests of getting everything set up in time." He reached in his pocket and pulled out a scroll, and tapped it—it obligingly enlarged and he moved it to the floor with his wand. "Let's see here—have a few notices to put up…." The scroll on top read "Open Bar Drinks Menu – Courtesy of the Alliance for Magical Unity", and had a list of libations underneath it. The first drink, outlined in little red hearts, was called "Faux Amortentia Punch." "Theo!" he called. "Put this up, if you please?"

"Will do," Theo said, as he caught the parchment in one hand and raised his wand. Within minutes, it was reinforced and sitting on an easel next to the bar on the left.

"You don't normally have a drinks menu?" Hermione asked, as she glanced down at the second poster, which read "Donations for the Alliance for Magical Unity." Draco sent this one whizzing toward the bar as well; Walden stepped over and caught it, after which Draco waved his wand toward the windows in a wavy, horizontal line. The windows immediately became frosted over with a pattern resembling lace curtains; Hermione smiled.

"We mostly get regulars and they can ask for whatever they desire," he said, and winked at her. "Within reason, and they usually have to pay…unless they're attractive single witches," he added. "Or my intended."

"Good to know," Hermione said, and looked down at the next poster, which read "The Alliance for Magical Unity Welcomes You to a Celebration of the Ministry of Magic's Marriage Law." There was an unfamiliar, runic logo above and a Ministry sigil below the text. Meanwhile, Draco sent a small collection box over to hang under the donations poster—which was next to the bar on the right, after which he tapped the celebratory poster. It enlarged to billboard size, and Draco turned to Hermione. "If you don't mind, I'll need a little help with this one, it should hang right there…" and he gestured to the wall opposite where they stood. After they'd affixed it, Hermione asked, "So, what's in that Faux Amortentia Punch?"

"It's not, er, _quite_ as faux as indicated—that's where Weasley comes in."

"And that logo—_Ansuz, Mannaz, Uruz_?" she asked. "I've not heard of this Alliance."

"I mentioned my father was writing his memoirs," Draco said, and looked at her. Hermione nodded. "Well, he's doing that under the auspices of the Alliance. It's a new private initiative, a publishing house and an information source for the public, fueled by the stories of my brethren, so that we all might learn from them…and that reminds me," he tapped his throat, flicked his wand, cast a Patronus, and said, "Father, please send the Alliance informational leaflets through the Floo, thank you." The glowing ferret scurried away.

"In short, your father, er, saw the writing on the wall and is bankrolling a propaganda outfit." Hermione was rapidly putting together all the pieces and understanding what Draco had hinted at concerning Mr Malfoy's financial priorities; he was making an attempt to rehabilitate his name.

"Indeed, but it's a beneficial one," Draco said, as he waved his wand to the bottom left corner of the wall, under the large sign, and added in a row of coat hooks, and then moved one of the couches next to it. "Think there are some cloak racks in the box from Millamant's but if not, we'll make do. I'll have the MLE wizards stand guard over there—I'll let Corban know when he gets back—"

"Are we going to do the marquee now?" Hermione asked. "Only I need to send an owl—it's a _bit_ urgent."

"We can take a break and do that—owl's up in my room and I've got supplies," Draco said. "Theo—you have the room," he said, a bit louder. "Got it," Theo replied. He'd created a table and was duplicating and stacking small goblets on it. Draco took Hermione's arm and steered her off down the hallway. They both made stops at the loo; when they reached the kitchen, they saw that Corban was sitting at the table with Rookwood and either Selwyn or Travers. A wizarding gramophone, a pile of records and several parchments with lists of times and names on—clearly the security rota—sat in between them.

"Where's…er…" Draco began.

"Travers?" Rookwood said. "In the loo. We're just about done here." Hermione made a mental note that Selwyn was the taller one, with curly hair.

"Good," Draco said. "Well, go on and get that gramophone in there so Roddy will stop grousing about it. Check in with Theo, see if he needs anything. We'll be back shortly," he added, in the general direction of the table. Corban stood up. "Shall I accompany ya?" he asked.

"I'd rather you do what I asked, Corban," Draco said, and he took Hermione's arm again and led her from the room. Hermione heard Corban make a rather disgruntled noise as they vanished through the doorway. They reached Draco's room in silence; he waved his wand to open the door and after they'd entered, waved it behind to lock it. "Desk is over there, everything you need, I'll wake the owl up—"he waved his wand over the cage, lifting the cover, and then poked an Owl Treat through the bars. "Hello, Hannibal, old friend," he said. The owl hooted happily. Hermione headed over to the desk and penned a hurried note to Ginny.

_Dear Gin—_

_Engagement's happened, it's Draco and Corban (Yaxley) and I—guess I'll be part of two of those older families—wanted you to hear before the Prophet or paparazzi—I should be home later tonight if you and Harry want to fire-call. _

_Love, Hermione_

"Tell Weaselette I say hello," Draco said, chuckling, as he opened the window and coaxed the owl toward it.

_P.S. Draco says to say hello and he looks forward to seeing you tomorrow._

She addressed the envelope.

_Ginny Potter  
**PLEASE OPEN BEFORE YOU READ THE PROPHET OR OTHER NEWS SOURCE**_

_12 Grimmauld Place_

_Claremont Square_

Draco stepped over and took the envelope and handed it to the owl, which obligingly flapped its way out the window. He then stepped close to Hermione and took her hands in his. "Corban didn't seem well pleased that we were coming up here together without him but he will just have to wait. Would you like to accompany me to dinner in Muggle London after we've finished up tonight?"

"That sounds rather lovely," Hermione said. Draco pulled her closer and gave her a kiss. This one was a bit nicer than the earlier one and although it felt odd at first, she let herself be transported with the feeling; it ended naturally and he smiled at her. "You know I've wanted to do that for a very long time now," he murmured.

"I did eventually figure that out," she said, smiling back at him.

"You should have found me first rather than Greg. I've been known to frequent the Claw on occasion. They're not the competition." He sat down on the sofa and Hermione sat next to him.

"Not sure I was quite ready for that, although Ron might have done more than faint if he'd seen _you_ coming out of my shower wearing a towel…"

Draco chuckled. "Is that what happened? Greg never said!" He waved his wand in the direction of an ice box in the corner of his room and two butterbeers floated toward him. He popped the tops and sent one toward Hermione, who took it gratefully.

"I had to send him through the Floo," Hermione said, after she'd taken a drink, and they both burst out laughing.

"Like a human Quaffle," Draco added, and they laughed again. "You know, Pans is quite taken with him, I really think they're in it for the long run."

"If she can manage to keep him in line; I couldn't, but then again I was too busy at work to notice, I suppose." She took another drink of butterbeer.

"Well, the Parkinson family tends to have some rather iron-clad fidelity clauses secreted in their marriage contracts. That's one of the reasons—other than, of course, Pansy and I are much better friends than anything else—that we didn't get married right after the war. And if I'm not mistaken, Corban avoided a Parkinson imbroglio as well…"

"He mentioned something about that," Hermione said. "Although he said she dumped him."

"Did he tell you that he was involved with my mother, as well?" Draco gave her a look that was somewhat close to a smirk.

"Yes, he read the questions I had in my notebook for him over my shoulder, answered all of them, I might add," she replied, and she took another drink.

"You'll have to ask him for the details if you wish to know—it's not my story to tell—although I will say it was late in the game and my father was…er…away at the time," he said, after which he took a drink and then sat the empty bottle down on the coffee table. She sat her empty next to his and he Vanished them. "So what were your questions for me?"

"Well, I mostly have general inquiries on how this marriage will work; I don't know him as well as you, then, do I?"

"I know him fairly well," Draco said. "Enough to know he's sitting down there trying to decide whether or not to come storming up the stairs and try to kick my bloody door down and possibly my arse—so we'd better get back to it—I can answer your questions at dinner," and he stood up and extended his hand.

"He's rather persistent…" Hermione said, as she accepted his hand and stood up next to him. Then she pointed at the window, a look of dread on her face. "_Evening Prophet_," she said, in a small voice.

"I suppose it's too much to hope that they're bothering to do a special edition featuring a puff piece about our soiree—Mother worked so hard on that press release," Draco said, as he walked over and accepted the paper from the owl and dropped it onto the table. There was only one story on the front cover, featuring lots of pictures…many of which appeared to originate from the DMLE, the Wizengamot, Azkaban…and the Triwizard Tournament.

**GOLDEN TRIO GRANGER BOARDS A DEATH EATER DOUBLE-DECKER TO GRETNA GREEN, by Special Correspondent Rita Skeeter**

"Great Salazar's ghost," breathed Draco.

"Glad I sent that owl," Hermione said.

"Should I grab a jar and poke holes in the top?" Draco asked.

"Too late, I think," Hermione said.

There was an insistent pounding at the door, and Draco waved his wand to unlock it. Unsurprisingly, Corban burst in with a copy of the _Prophet_ clutched in his hand. "They used my sodding prison photograph!" he shouted. "Right the bloody fuck next to my official DMLE photograph!" He was practically growling, crumpling the paper so tightly that it was starting to rip.

Hermione observed that her Yule Ball portrait—which, to be fair, was flattering, although it made her look much too young—was sandwiched in between two columns of photographs, one featuring Draco (mostly flattering) and the other featuring Corban (not so much flattering as he appeared to have a black eye in one, although he looked distinguished in the official Ministry photograph).

The distinctive pop of Apparition sounded, and Mr and Mrs Malfoy appeared; she was holding a copy of the paper. _And so the soiree begins_, Hermione thought, _only we haven't had time to set up the marquee_. Corban dashed so quickly to Hermione's side that she almost thought he'd Apparated as well, and slid his arm around her waist. Draco took her hand.

"Good afternoon, Miss Granger, and good afternoon, Corban," Mrs Malfoy said, inclining her head to each. "Draco, I think in this case all publicity is good publicity—we have received more RSVPs; the total count is currently 430 for both events."

"Mother—an updated guest headcount hardly qualifies as an _emergency_," Draco said. Hermione assumed he was referring to their precipitate Apparition into his private quarters.

"Good afternoon, Miss Granger, Corban." Mr Malfoy bowed to each. "We thought you might be downstairs setting up. And we did not wish to block the Floo in case there were deliveries coming." He sat a packet of papers and a champagne bottle on the coffee table, next to the Prophet.

"We would have been diverted to the portico if you had set up wards," Mrs Malfoy added, as she waved her wand and summoned five champagne flutes from a cabinet in the corner.

"Corban, I'm going to have to ask that you _didn't see this_—"Draco began.

"The others are all in the main room," Corban said. "Sent 'em off when I saw the paper arrive, told Gus to make sure they stayed—"

"Skeeter was probably camped out waiting at the Registry Office under a Notice-Me-Not or something," Draco said. _That would be just like her,_ Hermione thought.

Mrs Malfoy, meanwhile, used her wand to remove the foil and cage from the top of the champagne bottle, after which she nodded at Mr Malfoy, who picked it up. "Regardless of the slings and arrows of our fourth estate, we must commemorate this happy occasion," and he twisted the cork so that the champagne opened with a sophisticated sigh. He poured out a round and everyone picked up a flute.

"To Miss Granger, brightest witch of our age, to my beloved son and heir, Draco, and to my treasured friend and brother, Corban, I wish you congratulations on your engagement," Mr Malfoy said.

"Indeed, I wish you three health, happiness, and prosperity," Mrs Malfoy added, _sounding rather like a greeting card_, Hermione thought, _only they usually feature couples…_

After they'd all finished their drinks, Draco said, "Mother, Father—I don't wish to rush you, but we do need to finish the decorations and I was planning to take my intended to dinner—"Corban tightened his hand on Hermione's waist and inhaled, a bit too loudly.

"We will be honored to assist," Mrs Malfoy said. "And you will _all_ accompany us to V&A this evening," she added, in a tone that suggested she would brook no disagreements. She and her husband started walking toward the door of Draco's room.

_Although Mrs Malfoy is extremely stylish_, Hermione thought, _she can't possibly be taking us to a Muggle museum for dinner_—although the café was lovely; she and her mother had enjoyed it on many occasions.

"Pardon me, Narcissa," Corban said, sounding defeated, "Only I can't go with ya; I'm barred from Diagon."

"Doesn't Vert et Argent have a separate entrance?" Draco asked. _Oh thank Merlin_, Hermione thought—_I don't have to ask about it and feel hopelessly Muggle._

"It was specifically listed in my parole documents, as was the Cauldron and the Claw and the bloody ice cream parlor," Corban said, sharply.

"Father, could your assistant recommend a suitable venue?" Draco asked, as he steered Hermione in the direction of the door. Corban remained standing by the table, staring down dejectedly at the _Prophet_. "Only it's got to be within a mile radius from this place," Corban muttered. Hermione walked back and held her hand out to him, and led him toward the door.

Narcissa clearly had very good hearing, and said, "We will have brunch at the Manor at some point in the near future, then." They all slowly filed out of Draco's room. Corban closed the door behind them.

"Oh, good evening, Auror," Draco said, after he locked the door with his wand. Everyone turned their heads in his direction.

"Good evening, Malfoy," said Harry Potter.

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AUTHOR'S NOTES:

Again, thank you to all who have read and reviewed. I appreciate you!

To Quinnmarie: One word-Wizengamot ;)

Fancasts:

It occurs to me that I'm in need of an update…  
Hermione, Draco, Harry, Ron, Ginny, Neville, George, Seamus, Lucius Malfoy, Narcissa Malfoy, Greg Goyle, Hannah Abbott, Pansy Parkinson, Augustus Rookwood, and others (as I come across them) are as they appear in the films.

Corban Yaxley – Charlie Hunnam (with no facial hair and longer hair)/ or Iain Glen, as you prefer... (suggested by PurpleCaboose, and thank you!)

Thorfinn Rowle – Rusty Coones (to continue the SOA theme)

Walden Macnair - Joe Manganiello

Theodore Nott – Jude Law (just for you, PurpleCaboose!)

I'm in search of fancasts for Rodolphus Lestrange and Antonin Dolohov. Suggestions welcome!

(As for Selwyn and Travers…pick your favorite background character actors.)


	15. Chapter 15

Note: This fic is rated M mainly for cussing (I have had issues; long story), but there's some lemony stuff at the end of this chapter; skip if not your bag.  
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_**Chapter 15 - **__**Are you ready for correction?**_

"Harry?" Hermione said—"Aren't…aren't you a little early?" Harry walked up the short flight of stairs and joined the rest of the party in the hall in front of Draco's door. Hermione squeezed out from behind Corban and hugged him.

"Not when I find out that one of my best friends is getting engaged by reading about it in a _Prophet_ special edition," Harry said, as he hugged her back. "You look very nice," he added.

"Thank you," Hermione replied. "I did send an owl to Ginny—didn't she, er…?"

"She may have tried to reach me at the Ministry, but I wasn't in my office and after I got the news I decided to come straight over here to do the inspection," he replied.

"Thought Dawlish was in charge of inspections of my programme," Draco said. "What happened to him?

"I've reassigned him," Harry said.

There was a not-very-quiet "Good" from Corban at that news.

"All right then," said Harry, becoming rather businesslike. "Yaxley, Malfoy, up against that wall over there, you know the drill—"and he gestured to a space between two doors a little way down the hall. Corban set his lips in a thin line and turned facing the wall, then lifted his arms and put his palms flat against the wall over his head. "Go on, Malfoy," Harry said.

"There _are_ three of us, Auror Potter," Draco said, with a slight fluttering edge of sarcasm.

"_Lucius_ Malfoy," Harry clarified. "I do appreciate you being here, Mr Malfoy; don't need to make that extra jaunt to Wiltshire."

"Pardon me, Harry," Hermione said, "But do we have to do this right now?"

"I'm sorry, Hermione," Harry said, as Mr Malfoy handed his cane to his wife and slowly took his place next to Corban. "This inspection is required as part of Mr Malfoy's—_Draco's_—Ministry-sanctioned parole rehabilitation programme."

Mrs Malfoy put her hand on Hermione's shoulder and moved her back so that she was standing in between her and Draco, then Draco took her hand. The trio watched as Harry scanned both Corban and Mr Malfoy with his wand. He then took each aside and asked them a series of questions under a sound-proofing spell bubble (_not Muffliato_, she observed). The whole process took no longer than five minutes, but to Hermione it seemed as if time had slowed to a crawl. _This is my life now_, she thought. _This is what I have chosen—not just the Wizengamot seat and the country houses and the heirloom jewelry and the venerated bloodlines and the ancestral portraits. I chose a parolee as one of my partners and he will always, always remember this humiliation, right after having a glass of the finest champagne and toasting our engagement._

"All right, Malfoy…Draco, that is—these two are good—already checked out Rookwood in the kitchen, so if you wouldn't mind showing me to the rest of them, I'd appreciate it—I haven't been here before, I had to come in by Portkey and ring the bell," Harry added.

"Of course, Auror Potter—if you would be so kind as to return to the kitchen and have a seat with Gus-I'll be with you momentarily." He turned to his parents. "Mother, Father—could you both please wait in the kitchen until this is over?"

"Certainly, son—we'll call the elves and get some refreshments in for all of you," Mrs Malfoy said.

Draco walked over to Corban and Hermione and put his arms around both of them. "I think we can all agree that was supremely bad timing on Potter's part, but at least we've got the pre-party inspection out of the way, and I _am_ ecstatic that Dawlish is out of the picture. _Harmony_, I think it would probably be best if, for now, you followed Potter around, or waited in the kitchen for him to get done—old school chums and all that—have him escort you home, or go visit Weaselette and the rest of the happy family. Mother and Theo can help with the marquee."

"It's only gonna get worse from here on out," Corban said, quietly.

"We won't be front-page news forever," Draco said. "Once the soiree happens and others start to get engaged, the gossip will overwhelm that revolting insect and if we're lucky her head will explode."

"Yesterday's news is tomorrow's fish and chip paper, after all," Hermione added.

"Fair point, sweetheart," Corban said, as he swung his arm around Hermione and then kissed her. "Come back as early as ya can tomorrow—come for breakfast, I'll save a doughnut for ya." He turned and walked slowly to the end of the hall.

"When are they delivered?" Hermione asked.

"10 AM," Draco answered, after which he kissed her. "I'll see you out to the Apparition point."

* * *

Dinner at the comfortably remodeled version of Grimmauld Place was a raucous affair with both James and Albus running around. Harry bottle-fed Lily while Hermione helped Ginny set the table and plate the food that Kreacher had cooked, after which he ducked away to his hidey-hole for a nap. Mrs Weasley's famous shepherd's pie was on the menu, to Hermione's delight, and treacle tart for pudding. The boys even dutifully finished most of their dinner as they stared curiously at Hermione.

"Auntie 'Mione," James asked, "How come you haven't come for dinner in a while?" As Hermione loved James, she accepted the nickname that she'd tried to cure Ron of using.

"Well, Jamie," she said, "I haven't been feeling very well," she finally answered.

"You're all better now, right?!" James demanded, as he reached for the treacle tart. Harry smiled and cut a slice of tart and added a dollop of crème fraiche to the top before handing it to his son.

"Oh, yes, I'll be coming for dinner regularly from here on out," Hermione replied. She'd agreed to this during a quick, slightly awkward conversation with Harry on the Serpent's Apparition portico under a Muffliato; she couldn't help feeling that he was doing a bit of extra-credit Auror work. To his credit, he'd smiled and hugged her afterward, and Ginny had congratulated her when she'd arrived.

"And we hope you'll be stopping by for our monthly Gryffindor alumni drinks party, as well—"Ginny interjected.

Several invitations for previous events had been included in the pile of owl post she'd incinerated the other day. "Of course I will, I'll add it to my schedule."

"McGonagall was at it last month, she was hoping to talk to you about that Runes position," Harry said, as he handed Lily to Ginny, who expertly summoned a burp cloth to her shoulder.

"Yes, she sent me an owl; I told her that I'm going to apply—the hours aren't that bad as Runes _is_ an elective course—I can come home weekends—thank Merlin that Neville's Head of House now or she might have offered me that…" she chuckled.

Ginny looked at her strangely as she patted Lily's back. "Pretty sure you're a shoo-in, but…where is home going to be, though? Do you know that yet?"

"I can tell you that it _won't_ be Malfoy Manor," Hermione said. "Not a chance." She reached over and sliced some treacle tart for herself and added two dollops of crème to it, then Summoned a cup of tea.

James piped up, "What's a Maffoy Manor?", and Ginny said, quickly, "A place where your father has to visit for work sometimes."

_Thanks a lot, girlfriend_, Hermione thought. "It's a house that my boyfriend's parents own—we're going to be married, but we will live together somewhere else after we get married," she explained. She firmly believed in not talking down to children if at all possible.

"Oh, okay," James said, as he pushed his fork around his empty tart plate and smiled up at Hermione.

"Yaxley has a manor," Harry said. "Are you planning to live there?"

"What's a Yax-ey?" asked James, inevitably. Albus, who was a mostly silent child, was staring up at Hermione as if he wanted an answer as well. _What, indeed_, thought Hermione. _What __**am**__ I supposed to call him? All the relevant terms that sprang to mind seemed inappropriately Muggle. "Side-gig?" "Man-friend"? "OSO"? He'd called Draco "our third," but who was the one who decided that? These questions were supposed to be answered by Draco at the bloody dinner that never happened…_

"He's Auntie Mione's other boyfriend," Ginny said, winking at Hermione as Lily snoozed quietly on her shoulder.

"Okay," James answered. "Can Al and I go play now?"

* * *

When Hermione stepped through the Floo to her flat, she immediately changed out of her T&T finery into her flannel pajamas (light blue with clouds on), took down her hair, Summoned a cup of chamomile tea and a copy of one of her (slightly ironic) comfort books, _The Worst Witch_, and switched on Radio 3 for some background jazz. Although she'd enjoyed the pudding earlier, she also summoned a Flake bar, and proceeded directly to the couch.

She hadn't gotten very far into the book when the chime over her fireplace rang. She waved her wand, and Draco's head appeared in the flames.

"I'm fairly sure Corban wants you to come through for a visit. He and Walden are sitting here in the kitchen looking furtive. I suspect you have an owl waiting for you—I'd brought Hannibal down to take care of some correspondence and he's missing," Draco said, looking rather rumpled and annoyed.

"I'm in my pajamas, Malfoy," she said, snarkily. She glanced at the owl perch outside the window and spotted the winged messenger seated there, looking rather imperious.

"I can see that; don't think he cares," Draco replied. "Just toss on a robe and come through, I don't mind if you stay the night now that the inspection's done; I don't put this lot on a curfew even though I'm technically supposed to. _And_ I'll take you to breakfast tomorrow," he added.

"Yes, please," Hermione replied. "Er, is there electricity in the rooms?" she added.

"Er…what do you mean by that, exactly? "

"Those gramophones and the lights and the floor polisher—you know, the Muggle stuff that makes them work," Hermione said.

"Oh, those…er, plugs…yes. Corban keeps a gramophone in his room, and it's attached to one of those thingies…only I think it's down in the main room now." She heard Corban saying, "Roddy borrowed it."

"He doesn't share a bathroom with anyone, does he?" Hermione asked, as she reluctantly slipped a bookmark into her book and waved her wand to turn her radio off, unplug it, and Summon it to her side. It was a rather fancy one with an iPod dock; she tapped her wand on it and shrunk it.

"I bloody well don't," Corban shouted.

"Why don't _you_ just put your head through if you're going to be talking to her, then," Draco said.

"Only I'm not sure I'm supposed to do that, parole documents weren't clear, that's why I sent the fucking owl," Corban said, a bit quieter.

"You should have asked me if you could use Hannibal, though, we can get you an owl, mate, pretty sure that's not forbidden," Draco said.

"I have perfectly good owls at my manor," Corban snapped.

"You can both stop bickering as I'm coming through in five minutes," Hermione said. Draco's head disappeared from the flames and she Summoned her Gryffindor bathrobe, toothbrush, toothpaste, and underthings from her bedroom and bathroom, and sent everything but the robe whizzing into her new purse. _Good thing I left my new clothes from T&T in there_, she thought, as she accepted the envelope from the owl and waved it away. It turned out that Corban had very nice handwriting; the note was short and to the point.

_._

_Sweetheart,_

_I need you—I'll be waiting in the kitchen—if I'm not here Walden will find me—do a Disillusionment Charm if you see anyone else._

_Yours, Corban_

_._

She was under no illusions as to what would likely occur when she got to the Serpent, so just before she stepped through the Floo, she flipped through her diary to check the date of her next St Mungo's monthly contraceptive potion appointment. _Or—do I really need to bother with that, _she wondered. _Since this is compulsory, I might as well lie back, think of Wizarding Britain, and get it over with….or do either of them think it's more than that? _Before she could give it more thought she picked up a biro and lined through the appointment.

When she stepped through the Floo, Corban, Draco, and Walden Macnair were seated at the table flipping through stacks of parchment.

"I tell you, I _don't_ see anything in here about owls," Draco was saying, and then he stood up and the others stood up as well.

"Evenin', lass," Macnair said, then sat back down and slid his finger down a piece of parchment and scowled.

"Granger, could you have a shufti through these when you get a chance—Corban is right, the section on magical communication methods _is_ unclear, seems to be different for each parolee," Draco said, as he sat back down.

"Wouldn't have been that way under me watch," Corban said, setting down a stack of parchment with a snort; he remained standing. Hermione glanced at it; under a Ministry logo and a DMLE logo, it read, in rather large letters, DEATH EATER PAROLE PROGRAMME – PARTICIPANT No.7, CORBAN THOMAS YAXLEY, under which was attached the unflattering picture of him with the black eye.

"Wouldn't they just duplicate those documents and put the names and pictures on?" Hermione asked, recalling long, dull afternoons spent making copies at her desk with her wand…_flip…flip….flip_.

"Oh, no, they went out of their way to add some _extra-special_ provisions for me," Corban said, tightly. "Shall we," he said, extending his hand to Hermione after a slightly awkward silence.

She took his hand and followed him through the doorway and up the stairs. It turned out that his room was the last one on the right; none of the doorways were marked. "If ya don't mind," he said, after they'd entered the room and he'd closed and manually locked the door. "If ya could ward it—none of those tossers can get in…well, Draco can, but ya might not be quite ready for that yet." He smiled at her.

Not wanting to consider that possibility at the moment, she waved her wand in the general direction of the door and muttered a couple of spells, including Repello Muggletum, although it seemed rather unlikely that might be needed.

"Tonight's for you and me," he said, walking into the room. Like Draco's, it featured tall ceilings and brick walls and an Eames sofa, but there was a large painting of a country house on the wall, above it, rather than a school banner. Next to the sofa, there was a table with an electrical plug behind it. She headed toward it, reaching in her purse for her radio. "I..er…brought some music," she said. "If you want."

"I want," he said, as he walked over to a cabinet exactly like the one in Draco's room and pulled out a bottle of wine, two glasses and a corkscrew. He sat on the couch and opened the bottle. Hermione decided that it would be best to not offer to assist and plugged in her radio, keeping it on BBC 4. Sultry strings filled the air, reminding her of the American South. She recognized the tune as one her parents had occasionally played.

_At last my love has come along…  
My lonely days are over and life is like a song, oh yeah…  
At last the skies above are blue__  
__My heart was wrapped up clover the night I looked at you…_

He handed her a glass of wine and then poured one for himself, took a drink and then turned to her and smiled. She sat her purse on the coffee table, then sat down on the couch next to him and picked up her wine and took a long draught. He moved closer to her and took her hand. "I want ya to be comfortable. Earlier I thought I might explode thinkin' of givin' ya pleasure tonight…but if ya just want to relax and then go to sleep, it's fine. I just didn't want to be alone after that Auror business earlier…nice robe, by the way."

She laughed. "Well, after dinner with two toddlers, a babe in arms, and two of my best friends, all of whom were more or less interrogating me, I _am_ a little knackered, but…"

He chuckled. "…but?"

"I wouldn't be averse to a little dancing," she said.

"Was hoping ye'd say that," he said. After they finished their wine, he stood and extended his hand to her and they began to dance; the song switched to a similarly romantic tune….

_All of me_

_Why not take all of me_

_Can't you see_

_I'm no good without you…_

When that number ended and the low, quiet tones of the DJ echoed through the room, he started kissing her, slowly and gently at first. "Let's go over here, have a lie-down," he murmured, and he guided her toward his bed, which was in an alcove off the main room. He sat her down on the side of the bed, and started unbuttoning his shirt.

"I…er, I think you might enjoy something different," she said, as she held out her hand and Summoned her wand silently. "Sit next to me and hold my hand," she added, recalling how much he'd liked it when she did magic. Greg, she recalled, had always enjoyed the spell she was about to do, and although she felt a slight pang of regret that she'd not ever hear his laughter at it again, she turned to Corban and twirled her wand, first over him and then over herself, and quietly intoned, _Devestire_. Obligingly, all their clothes vanished from their bodies, flew through the air and arranged themselves in two neat stacks on the sofa.

Corban gave a deep, long, satisfied groan. "Sweet Salazar…" he finally gasped. "That felt…so good." She looked at his naked body; he was extremely well-built and extremely well-hung. He noticed where she was looking and smiled and took her in his arms and lowered her to the pillows and began kissing her again. "Do more magic, any kind, I don't care what…" he muttered in her ear, as he slipped his hand down her body. "I want to feel it—I _need_ to feel it-" His insistent hardness nudged against her thigh.

She whispered in his ear, "Once, back when I was in school, I was all alone on a Saturday night after everyone else had gone to Hogsmeade...so I went to the Restricted Section."

"Did ye?" he whispered, as he slipped two fingers between her folds. Hermione gasped as he circled his thumb over her sensitive spot, and reached over for her wand (which had nearly rolled off the bed).

"What did ya find there, me clever girl?" he rumbled against her throat.

"I found this book called the _Slytherin Kama Sutra_," she whispered.

"Sweet Circe," he sighed. "I know it well."

"So I went back to Gryffindor Tower and took it with me even though I wasn't supposed to, and I warded my bed as strongly as I could," she said, and he groaned loudly as he began to slide his fingers in and out of her slowly, then faster. "Sweetheart," he said, "What did you do then?"

"I used the spells on myself that night," she sighed.

"Ahhhhh…next time I'm by myself I'm gonna think about that…" and he took her hand and slid it down over his hardness. He was more than ready. She moved her wand over both of them and whispered, _Sensus Incredibilus_. Would it work if his magic was blocked? She didn't know.

He groaned with pleasure—it had clearly worked. "I have to take ya now," he growled, and he slid into her. "Do the other one…do AV," he gasped, as he began to ride her. Although Hermione's mind was slowly being blown—because the spell had affected her, of course—she knew what he meant, and muttered, _Accretio Voluptas_. At that, Corban went into a sort of frenzy and the next thing she knew, she was exploding around him in pleasure, her orgasms bursting through her like fireworks.

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AUTHOR'S NOTES:

I realize the updates are appearing quickly—and I also hope you're enjoying them. As always, a million thanks to all reviewers!

That's my first bit of lemony goodness in a while; I'm out of practice so please be kind.

To EmilyWoods—there seems to be confusion on The Interwebs about Richard Trinder. A couple of sites say he's the one who played Rookwood, but others say he was Rodolphus Lestrange. Weird! I guess I'll just leave those characters as-is for now.

I aged up Lily Luna Potter just a bit (by accident)—her canon birthdate is May 2008, and this fic is taking place in late February 2008. Ah well.

I like Neville, so I promoted him to Head of Gryffindor as that information seems inexplicably missing from canon. (As a Slyther-fan, I am surprised!)

The Alliance for Magical Unity is one of my original creations from "Nothing Else Matters," in which Lucius is just as scheming as this fic.

Draco does not drink as a rule; he charmed his champagne to be non-alcoholic surreptitiously so as to not offend his parents.

Vert et Argent (Green and Silver) is a (non-canon) upscale, exclusive Diagon Alley eating establishment. Another fic writer (IIRC it's Scorpia11, in "The Deal") had a similar idea, except they called their restaurant the Silver Serpent (in French, and I can't recall the exact translation). The Silver Serpent (originally a disco) was a creation for a slash fic of mine from 2002 that's not on this site….thus, if you're reading this, Scorpia11, V&A is dedicated to you. (And of course, the Victoria & Albert Museum (often called the V&A) is in London and is very much recommended.)

This fic is meant to be light-hearted (as it's in the Humor category), although this chapter got a bit heavy. The narrative will not contain many details of the Azkaban anti-prejudice re-education programme that the DEs underwent…however, those who successfully 'graduated' were permitted a chance at parole, those who didn't are still there (nine total, including Avery, and the Carrows).

"Yesterday's news is tomorrow's fish and chip paper" is a quote from another old Elvis Costello song.

Devestire, Sensus Incredibilus, and Accretio Voluptas are spells of my own creation. The Slytherin Kama Sutra is a rather old fanfic on this site. Many thanks to the author for the name!


	16. Chapter 16

_**Chapter 16 – '**__**Cause the wages of sin are an expensive infection**_

Hermione woke up early the next morning, donned her Gryffindor robe and quietly crept to Corban's en-suite loo (which was configured exactly like Draco's), stopping to grab her toothbrush and toothpaste along the way. After she washed her hands, she mechanically scrubbed her teeth the way her parents had taught her whilst staring in the mirror at her unruly hair and….

_My parents_, she thought. _They get the Daily Prophet via the Overseas Mail Service_.

_And they are going to find out I'm getting married to two wizards, one of whom is a paroled Death Eater, by getting a lurid story in the post, before I can…wait_, she thought. _Once again—am I a Muggleborn witch or not?_ When she popped home to change for the party tonight, she could just call them long-distance and tell them it was a bunch of paparazzi nonsense and not to worry. Then, she could figure out something to tell them later. Who knows, by the time she visited them next, this could all be over with and she might not even need to say much, other than she'd had a hasty marriage and got divorced. During her time in the wizarding world, she'd mostly given them highly sanitized and edited versions of many events, rationalizing that it was far better to ask forgiveness and so forth. This, of course, had made their forced relocation all the more shocking once they'd been released from the spell. She'd had to apologize to Kingsley. It had taken several annoying hours for him to explain everything, after which she, Bill, and Kingsley had to spend the night in a rather cramped guestroom (which they'd magically enlarged once her parents went to sleep). Tea and her mother's homemade pavlova had helped sweeten the task, but only somewhat; it was a reduced-sugar recipe, after all.

_Malfoys don't divorce, though_, nagged her mind. _And you don't know anything about Yaxleys, really_. He'd had four mistresses, after all, and he could have married at least two of them; he'd hinted that the timing had been bad for at least one of the liaisons—maybe he took marriage seriously. But, of course, these days, _everyone_ was required to take marriage seriously, or face a hefty fine and possible Azkaban incarceration…and he definitely wouldn't want to go back there.

"Sweetheart, I think your teeth are _probably_ clean enough by now," Corban said. She looked up and saw him approaching behind her in the mirror; she hadn't even heard him come in. He slid his hands over her shoulders and kissed her neck. "Or are ya trying to give me a hint?"

"Mmmmph," she said, and rinsed out her brush.

"Only I was hoping ye'd come back to bed—if ye'd let me use me bathroom for a moment—no wonder ye wanted to know if I shared." He shook his head wryly.

An hour later, they lay together, her head pillowed on his chest. She'd thought of something else and figured it was best to get it out of the way sooner than later, so she turned to him, took a deep breath and said, "So can I see your arm, then?"

Corban groaned, not in the happy fun way. "Figured we'd get to this bullshite eventually; why didn't ya just look last night?"

Hermione sighed, "I was a little busy with other parts of you last night."

"Ya didn't hear me complain about any of that, sweet lass—I think those spells are still workin' a bit; we should experiment, see how long they hold, the book's not clear on that as I recall…"

"It's not," she said. "I remember feeling very good for several days after I…er…practiced on myself." She blushed.

He ran his fingers over her left forearm where a stylized bouquet of red-and-gold lilies, with one green calla lily in the middle, covered up Bellatrix Lestrange's nasty handiwork. "What's this about? It's in nearly the same place as me Mark."

"The lilies are in honour of Lily Evans…and Professor Snape," she said. "I went to a Muggle tattoo shop in Australia and got it put on to cover up—a scar from the war. One put on me by Madam Lestrange."

He silently and obligingly held his left forearm up. There, in all of its ignominious glory, was a faded grey Dark Mark, looking more like scarification than anything else.

"I thought they—er—went away," Hermione said, as her eyes traced around the whorls.

"Draco's mostly did, ya can barely see his. The others—the ones who are still in Azkaban and will probably never get out—theirs are darker."

"And yours is somewhere in between," she said. "Aye," he said. "And we're not permitted to glamour them or cover them up. Out in the Muggle world it occasionally gets noticed, but it seems many Muggles have similar art these days—when I went out to get lunch first week I was here some little laddie told me it looked 'bad-ass'."

_Out of the mouths of babes,_ Hermione thought. "I tried to glamour the scar and it never worked well—asked at a shop down Knockturn, they said it was because she used a certain type of cursed knife, even though she was already dead and it should have vanished."

"They were correct," he said. "Glamours can be tricky. Draco's quite good at them, though—something to do with Fair Folk ancestors—I do like the skin art, but had you wanted a stable glamour he would have done for ya what he's done for all of us."

"What do you mean?" He rolled over onto his stomach, with a slight grunt. "I'm sure ya know the spell to release a glamour," he said. "Only I'd appreciate it if you'd put it back on when you're done looking." "Looking at what?" She raised her wand. "And where should I be pointing this?" "Me back," he said.

She did a nonverbal incantation and waved her wand and gasped. Multiple scar wounds covering nearly every bit of his back were revealed, some still angry red.

"Go ahead and ask yer question."

"But you've _already_ answered it, yeah? You said it was literally whipped out of you—the prejudice, I mean." She paused. "Shite! I scratched your back not fifteen minutes ago!"

"The spell blocked the worst of it, and I rather liked when ya did that and screamed me name," he said. "If ya could put the glamour on now I'd appreciate it." After a short pause, he added, "Please." She restored the glamour and he rolled back over.

"Mine is the worst of all the brothers. I told ya they gave me special treatment."

For the first time in a very long while, Hermione was speechless.

"Go ahead, ask the rest of yer questions," Corban said.

"I assume you mean why—why you did all that—can we talk about that later?" She put her arms around him and he sighed with pleasure.

"Or never," he said, rolling her over on her back. "Never would be good for me." He dipped his head down and kissed her. "Would rather do something else right now than talk…"

"**Oi, Corban! The time is now 9 AM**! **Wake our intended up if you please, I promised her breakfast!**" Draco's Patronus sat at the end of the bed and smirked at them.

"I'm going to kick his arse," Corban muttered, as Hermione summoned her wand and said, "I'm _already_ up, you lazy ferret—see you in half an hour!" then sent her Patronus scampering away. "Not going to save him a fucking doughnut, either," Corban continued, as he swung his legs over the side of the bed. "Will save one for ya, though, dear lass—ye'd better go in the bath by yer lonesome, I might get ideas if I come in with ya—go on, I'll get us some tea…"

* * *

"So, how was it, Granger," Draco asked, after they were comfortably ensconced in a window booth at the stylish diner and the waitress had left with their orders. He poured a cup of tea for her and then one for himself and passed the sugar her way.

"I can't believe you'd even ask that," Hermione said, as she added sugar and milk. "I mean—we're all going to be together in some way _eventually_, I assume. And you've seen us kissing."

"In order to complete our marital bond, we should all attempt to live together at first, see how things work out. " He held his hand up, anticipating her reply. "And no, it will _not_ be at the Manor, I'm quite aware of why you wouldn't want it as a residence—plus it's still being repaired. We have other houses, including one here in London. Or we can all bunk in at Yax's country place, it's lovely—he has a picture in his room of it. And it's clear you are extremely compatible with him, which was…well, close to what he told me."

"Only a bit earthier, possibly?" Hermione replied, after she took her first sip of tea.

"A lot earthier, actually, involving the gritty details of a near-shag on my errant couch and a rather poetic description of your arse, but I would expect no less," Draco said, stirring sugar into his own tea.

Hermione giggled. "Well, he has a rather nice one himself, as do you, Mr Quidditch Athlete."

"For someone who professes no interest in sport, you certainly _do_ like your Quidditch players. I can't understand why you just didn't owl Krum and marry him in order to opt out of all this nonsense—"

Hermione interjected, "Because he's already married, settled down with two children—"

"Rules can be bent a bit—just ask your friendly neighbourhood Slytherin," Draco said.

"Only which one?" Hermione asked.

"Well, Corban is a lot of things but he's not _friendly_—except to you, you really bring out his softer side,"

"…..Death Eaters _have_ softer sides?"

"You wound me, Granger! First of all, there is no longer any such organization, just the Alliance, who, as a rule, eschews parading around in skull masks harassing Muggles—we're not the baddies. Instead, we are providing a community service for all the inconvenienced witches and wizards who need to—er, reproduce promptly or get fined or imprisoned—and you're saying my brothers and I don't have compassion?"

"Why do you all refer to yourselves as brothers?" Hermione asked.

"Well, you know Purebloods are all related if you go back far enough…" She snorted. "Don't have me on!"

"Well, the organization's original purpose was, er, magical unity among the older families and it was considered a brotherhood. The Statute of Secrecy took the Muggles out of the picture, but it didn't stop the inter-family feuds and duels…rather like school rivalries, but with much higher stakes. When the Pretender started school…and you know he wasn't a Pureblood, correct?"

"I thought _everyone_ knew that," Hermione said.

"Well, nobody recognized his family name, and although he was extremely talented magically…that should seem a bit familiar to you…"

"Don't compare _me_ to Old Snake-Face," Hermione said, grimacing. "That's not on," and she paused, as the waitress brought their entrees. Both Hermione's garden plate and Draco's traditional fry-up looked and smelled quite appetizing. "Is this place within a mile radius of the Serpent?" Hermione asked. "Only I wanted to let Corban know about it."

Draco moved his hand down and put up a quick Notice-Me-Not, then performed another spell. "About three-quarters of a mile," Draco said. "It was a lovely stroll, wasn't it?"

"It definitely was, just what I needed," Hermione smiled after she took her first bite. "Thank you, by the way."

"We haven't had much time to be alone together, and the rest of this weekend is going to be ridiculously busy, so I thought it would be nice." He paused and took her hand. "If it's not too forward, _next_ weekend, I was hoping we could go on a short holiday? I'm sure I can hand the reins of the Serpent over to Theo, now he's got his wand; I can get a MLE officer to sit in to satisfy the legalities. By the way, Theo will be proposing to Tracey any minute now—possibly this weekend—and that reminds me…." He sat his fork down. "On Sunday we'll have time set aside for any of those who wish to tender their proposals. We'll have romantic music playing—Corban provided a pile of records—and if you don't mind, I'd like your assistance making the announcement—"

"It might divert attention from us," Hermione said. "And yes, I would enjoy a getaway; it sounds as if you could use one yourself." She squeezed his hand and released it.

"You have _no_ idea," Draco said, with a sigh. "I don't even care where we go as long as it doesn't involve parties or nightclubs."

"You mentioned Tracey?" Hermione asked.

"Yes, Tracey Davis—you were at her spa the other day with Weaselette?"

"Oh! She was at the counter, I believe—I remember her, she was in our year at Hogwarts—in your house?"

"The very same—they dated secretly in school, but his father wouldn't permit a marriage because she's a half-blood, old Cantankerus would be rolling in his grave—"

"What sort of perverse soul names their child Cantankerus; I've wondered for years."

"Someone who didn't enjoy being pregnant, I suppose—traditionally, the wife names the children," Draco said, chuckling.

"Maybe she just had a bad run of indigestion— "Hermione said, as she sat down her fork and laughed.

"Don't you _even_ think about it—we're simply _not_ going to have any Crabbius Malfoys or Dyspepsia Yaxleys running around frightening the other children—_I'll_ go to bloody America if that happens…" and they both broke out into helpless laughter, punctuated by the occasional "_Crotchetilda_!" and "_Curmudgeonus_!"

"Sweet Circe," Draco finally managed. "We've got to finish up here and get back—pardon me," and he spent a few minutes enjoying the rest of his food; Hermione followed suit. Draco signaled for the cheque and handed the waitress his Amex card. After he'd signed the tab, Hermione asked, "So—er, I've been wondering. Not that I'm going to name any child something horrible like Eggletina or Veruca or similar…but…"

"Eggletina Veruca Malfoy-Yaxley," Draco said, "Sounds like either the Minister for Magic or the most frightening Arithmancy professor ever to grace the halls of Hogwarts…"

"Will their names be hyphenated, though? Will mine?"

"Well, that is up to us to decide. If we wish to formally merge our Houses, then yes. If this—meaning our marriage—does not work out, then the children will each have their father's last name."

"And the patriarchy marcheth on," Hermione said, disappointedly.

"Hold on a second—you have a say in all this—I said it was up to _us_ to decide; you are included in that. You have met my mother and you have met other formidable witches; there have been many woman Ministers. Our world is not as unequal as the Muggle world, by any means."

"But—merging the Houses and all that…"

"Well, yes, there's that part of it—but that is a discussion that really needs to happen later—" he consulted his pocketwatch, "I'm sorry—it is fascinating stuff but we must get back—and you mentioned you needed to pop round to your flat—you might want to go ahead and do that sooner than later. You may store clothes and whatever else in my room—just not, and I'm sorry, I _don't_ make the stupid, arbitrary rules—not in Corban's room. The Aurors aren't permitted to search my room."

"Draco," Hermione said. "Take a breath, please. I'm concerned you'll collapse before the party even begins!"

He paused for a moment, and smiled at her. "Thank you. I'll be fine…if we hadn't had breakfast I wouldn't have been—"he stood up. "Once more into the fray, Harmony?"

* * *

By four-thirty that evening, the club was more or less ready. A troop of house-elves hovered near the food tables, which were covered with lovely savory and sweet dishes under Stasis Charms. Walden and Theo sat in front of the bar; a Millamant's Everlasting Fountain containing Faux Amortentia Punch (awaiting George Weasley's extra bit of whimsical wizardry) sat on a table next to it. Corban, Rookwood, Travers, Selwyn and five off-duty MLE officers, wands holstered at their sides, sat on the couches; all were wearing light grey tunics, waistcoats, and dark grey trousers. Corban was currently using a small cloth to shine his pocketwatch and attempting to ignore the occasional stink-eye thrown his way from the two officers who'd worked during his short-lived command.

The marquee hung from the ceiling adorned by fairy lights; underneath it, the tables, chairs, and conversation groupings were arranged artfully. On the walls, there were several large murals featuring white lilies (as created by Hermione).

The DJ station was graced with a large dance floor in front of it—Draco and Hermione had done a hasty expansion spell to add a bit more room to accommodate exuberant dancers. Lestrange and Rowle had records lined up in bins and were testing a large steampunk-looking microphone while playing jazz at a low volume.

Draco, in black tie dress robes, was at the front door creating a second Apparition Portico under a Notice-Me-Not spell, as the guest count had risen to 470. Hermione, hair tamed with Sleekeezy's, wearing her maroon dress robe and jewelry (but with her heels transfigured to flip-flops) was in the kitchen creating barriers in front of the cabinetry—the table and chairs were shrunk and stowed in one of the cabinets—so that party guests would simply pass through from the back door directly into the main room, but left the fireplace open just in case. Just as she put the finishing touches on the barriers, the Apparition portico doorbell rang, and she waved her wand to open the door.

"Good evening, Miss Granger," Narcissa Malfoy said. "You look stunning," she added.

"Oh, thank you, and good evening to you as well, Mrs Malfoy," replied Hermione. Narcissa wore dramatic fitted dark green dress robes with a high collar, and a large diamond necklace—her hair was upswept in an effortlessly elegant do. Mr Malfoy followed behind in black-tie dress robes; he extended his arm to a third witch that Hermione didn't recognize. "Good evening, Mr Malfoy," Hermione said, after which she slipped her wand down surreptitiously to transfigure her shoes into kitten heels.

"Good evening, Miss Granger; I'd like you to meet my good friend Madam Lucinda Wilkes. Lucinda, Miss Granger is engaged to Draco as well as Corban Yaxley; we're very pleased at the news."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Madam Wilkes," Hermione said, and she gave a quick curtsy; out of the corner of her eye she noticed a flash of something that looked like approval on Narcissa's face—at least she hoped so.

"Madam Wilkes and I have just completed a spot of personal business—she's purchased my Connecticut house—I believe Draco has told you about that?" Mr Malfoy said, leaning heavily on his cane. Hermione noticed he'd switched out the plain one for a slightly nicer model with a silver (non-reptilian) top.

"He has indeed," Hermione replied. "Congratulations, Madam Wilkes."

"And congratulations on your engagement—I haven't seen Corban in years; he's so charming. And, do, please call me Lucinda," said the witch. She was tall, blonde and aristocratic-looking, wearing lilac dress robes that looked simple, yet were well-cut and likely very expensive. "If you don't mind—I'm a bit parched—could you possibly show me where I might get a drink?"

"Miss Granger, please be so kind as to show her to the bar—and where might Draco be?" Narcissa asked. "I'll be summoning the elves shortly."

"Everything and everyone is this way, if you'll all please follow—"Hermione said.

Several things happened at once when the party reached the main room and Hermione led Madam Wilkes toward the bar. Walden dropped the bottle of vodka he'd been holding and Theo cleaned it up with a wave of his wand. Three of the MLE officers jumped out of their seats, _which seems a bit excessive for a broken bottle_, Hermione thought, until everyone gasped and she turned her head and saw that Antonin Dolohov, wearing an open bathrobe and nothing else whilst singing "The Internationale" (off-key) had appeared in the doorway.

Draco had just closed the front door behind him, and his jaw dropped; he dashed toward Dolohov muttering "Bloody hell…" head down, as if he were riding a broom chasing the Snitch; Corban was close behind him. The MLE officers already had done Incarcerous, but nobody bothered to fix the exposure issue (Hermione couldn't help but notice that he was very large and partially excited) until Narcissa waved her wand in his direction and closed and tied his bathrobe neatly without even breaking her stride.

"Lass, _please_ come over here," Walden said. He was leaning against the bar, his arms splayed, with an incredulous look on his face. "Unless you're a spirit…or an illusion…"

Hermione was a bit confused—and truly hoped this was _not_ the afterlife—until she realized he must mean Lucinda; she steered the witch toward the bar. "Mr Macnair, you and Madam Wilkes must already be acquainted—"

"_**Wilkes**_?!" said Walden, loudly, and he dashed out from behind the bar and dropped to his knees in front of Lucinda.

"Lucinda, lass, please marry me!" he said, in a slightly lower voice, but as the DJs had just turned off the music, presumably to do more testing, his voice carried.

"Oh, Walden—of course, yes, **yes**!"

The two DJs looked at each other. Hermione fervently hoped that they would resist the temptation to play the Weird Sisters. Thankfully, Rowle said, (with only a bit of feedback), "Congratulations to our beloved brother, Walden and his lovely fiancée—we dedicate this number by Celestina Warbeck, the Singing Sorceress, to you," and played "At Last." _Only it's by Etta James_, Hermione thought—_someone must be having the wizards on_—_I'm going to have a look at those records_. Walden and Lucinda were so wrapped up in each other that they didn't notice, but everyone gave them a round of applause, including the MLE officers, who'd just returned to the room, Draco and Corban a minute or so behind them.

"What'd we miss?" Draco said, whispering in Hermione's ear, as he clapped along with the others. "Why are we applauding?" asked Corban, as he followed suit.

"The first successful engagement of the night—Walden and Madam Wilkes…Lucinda—I just met her; she seems rather pleasant," Hermione said.

"Avery's wife—well, former, I guess?" Corban said. "That's good—they were always together at the Revels."

"How did Mr Dolohov get out?" Hermione said. "Used ta be a Curse Breaker," Corban said. "Probably did some wandless on accident." "He—er, wasn't exactly dressed for the party," Hermione said, giggling. "That's what I told him," Corban said, chuckling.

"Well, I suppose it can only go uphill from here," Draco said.  
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AUTHOR'S NOTES:

I realize the updates are appearing quickly—and as always, a million thanks to all reviewers!

We are now at the party, which will span quite a few chapters. I hope you all enjoy it.

PurpleCaboose—just for you, Travers and Selwyn are now being played by Benedict Cumberbatch (or whatever B.C. name you wish to generate for him) and Martin Freeman. According to the Google Oracle, Travers was a bureaucrat (Muggle-Born Reg Commission or some such racist claptrap) and Rookwood was the Department of Mysteries Unspeakable, and Selwyn was just…there, but…why not, Travers and Selwyn will just be the moles from the Ministry in this tale.

Lucinda Wilkes (formerly Avery) is played by Laura Dern.

Eggletina is a name from "The Borrowers" series of children's books.

Veruca is a name from Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory; RIP Denise Nickerson, who played Violet Beauregard in that film (although I loved the book first, of course!). (And a big thank you to awesome reviewer covenmama, who pointed out that I'd given the incorrect actress credit here in my original go-round.)


	17. Chapter 17

_**Chapter 17 –**__** It'll make you bankrupt**_

Party setup continued apace for the next hour, during which George Weasley and Lee Jordan, wearing dragon-hide tuxedos, arrived with the extra ingredients to spike the Faux Amortentia Punch. Lucinda had joined Walden and Theo behind the bar, and she volunteered to monitor the Everlasting Fountain. Rowle and Lestrange were playing a rotating selection of jazz standards and providing commentary (Hermione noticed that all these records, as well, seemed to be by Celestina Warbeck or someone called the Warbling Wizard). Mr and Mrs Malfoy had called the Manor house-elves, who'd joined the troop of hire-elves waiting near the marquee and brought more food, including a large heart-shaped cake. Pansy Parkinson (in a dramatic black-and-white cocktail length robe with a beaded collar necklace), Ron Weasley (in black-tie dress robes), and Harry and Ginny Potter (in black-tie dress robes and Gryffindor-red cocktail length dress robes, respectively) had arrived with little fanfare and were sitting together in one of the conversation groupings near the bar testing out the punch. The MLE officers and club security personnel sat on the couches; Selwyn and Travers were stationed near the selection of cloaks that had accumulated.

Meanwhile, Hermione (who did not know her friends had arrived because she'd been in the loo when they did) and Draco (who did know they'd arrived) had gone into the reconfigured kitchen to set up stronger wards blocking off the stairway in hopes of keeping Dolohov confined.

"But, Draco, if his wandless abilities are strong enough to overcome the charms you have in place and the restrictions on him, what then? We can't have him coming back out waving his…er, wand again," Hermione observed, as she created a barrier.

"Then the MLE officers will take him to the Ministry holding cells and bring him back after the party," Corban interjected.

"Corban, I didn't even hear you come in!" Draco said. "Gonna go up to me room for a minute," Corban muttered. "Will be back when guests start to arrive—send me yer damn ferret when ya need me," he growled, and started heading toward the stairs.

"I bloody well will not," Draco snapped, as he checked his watch. "It's five-thirty; they'll be arriving any bloody minute! I need you to do what I asked. If you need to use the loo there are plenty down here! Go back in there and either get someone to do front door security or do it yourself!"

"I'll do security at _this_ door with an officer who doesn't bloody loathe me," Corban said, gesturing at the back door and the Apparition portico. "Not going back in there."

"You're going to have to go tell Rookwood and the others and adjust your rota, then. I'm not your errand boy," Draco said. "I'm in charge of this programme _and_ this club, which makes me your boss." The two were now standing face to face, and red sparks were emanating from Draco's wand (which was pointing downward).

"Stop zappin' me and I'll fuckin' think about it," Corban spat.

"I'm not zapping you, but I will if you don't stop this bullshite!" Draco shouted.

"I'll zap _both_ of you!" Hermione shouted, after which she hit the floor between them with an explosion. They jumped apart, abashed, as she walked over. "Corban, why don't you want to go in there?" Hermione asked.

"Weasley and Jordan," he muttered, as he lifted his hand up and adjusted his queue.

"Oh," Draco said, frowning. "Shite, Yax; I'd forgotten about that."

* * *

_The smoke and the chaos of the Final Battle raged on. Draco stumbled to the entrance of the Great Hall and realized the tide was turning. He looked this way and that; Greg had disappeared, he didn't know where. Nobody seemed to notice as he leaned up against the wall, put his head down, and vomited. He waited a few minutes before Vanishing the puddle of sick. Voldemort had actually __**hugged**__ him, he thought, feeling his gorge rise again, and as he'd joined the ranks of Death Eaters, he passed by Corban Yaxley, who'd clapped him on the back, and Antonin Dolohov, who'd shaken hands with him quickly. His parents, though, had looked disappointed yet relieved as they pulled him into a tight hug. Then Longbottom had done something and Potter had vanished and then reappeared and the battle had started up again, and here he was. In the hall, all around him, witches and wizards he recognized were dueling others he recognized, students against parents, teachers against Ministry workers, shopkeepers against socialites, and he couldn't bring himself to raise his wand. He heard a loud growl and saw one of the Weasley twins and his friend who used to do the Quidditch commentary dueling Yaxley. The combatants seemed evenly matched—although Yaxley's Ministry job was administrative, he was a fierce fighter—but even he could not keep up against both wizards; he was getting worn down by the minute. He'd been wounded—there were angry red slashes on the arms and chest of his gambeson—like most of the other Death Eaters, he'd discarded his cloak when the battle got serious. Draco stood there, unable to move, although he knew he should assist; possibly it was because he glimpsed his parents running through the crowd, or possibly because he knew that Yaxley going down meant that the battle was that much closer to ending, and not in the Dark's favour. He watched the duel until Weasley knocked Yaxley to the floor with a well-aimed Stunner and followed it with a victory cry. To add a final insult, he used his wand to cut off Yaxley's queue and stuffed it in his robe pocket. Jordan Summoned Yaxley's wand and did an Incarcerous while he lay there; later, while Draco sat with his parents drinking coffee and eating sandwiches served by the Hogwarts elves, he saw a group of MLE officers hauling off Yaxley none too gently—one of them punched him in the face, saying the magically-bound wizard was "resisting arrest."_

* * *

"Obviously," Corban said. "Else ya would have gotten someone else ta do those drinks, I'd hope." He sighed. "I'll go talk ta Rookwood."

"I'll go in there with you, I think I'm done here—there's no need to rearrange your schedule," Hermione said. "Come on, Lee and Forge are both ridiculous; nobody takes them seriously. Plus I know them pretty well." She stowed her wand and beckoned at Corban before striding off down the hall.

"That's what I'm worried about," Corban said, as he walked slowly behind her.

"Harmony—wait! We've all got to go in there together!" Draco shouted. "_Wait_! Corban, stop her—"It was too late. She'd entered the main club room and was moving quickly toward the bar at the same time that Ron had gotten up to refill his and Pansy's punch goblets.

"Hermione!" shouted Ron. "What the hell are you even doing with this ridiculous engagement? He sat the empty punch goblets down on the bar. "Charlie's not involved with anyone! You can marry _him_ and then you can still be part of the family and you don't need to hook up with these losers-"and he turned and swept his arm around the club. Unfortunately he pointed directly at Corban, who walked straight up to him and said quietly, "If ya could keep yer voice down, Mr Weasley."

George Weasley came striding over to assist his brother; he held two fingers up, first pretending they were scissors, and then rudely gestured while waggling his tongue, but he was chuckling. "What's going on here, Ronnikins? Yax here can't do much to you; he doesn't have one of my wands yet!"

Hermione groaned. "All right, Forge?" she said. George stepped forward and hugged her and kissed her on both cheeks. "All right, Granger?" he said. "You look amazing," he said, as he Summoned a goblet of punch for her. "Here, try this; promise it's not too spiked…yet!"

"I'm _serious_, Hermione!" Ron whined.

"Ronald, your brother lives in Romania, and he's gay," Hermione said, after she took a sip of punch. "He is," said George, who was currently summoning goblets of punch for both Draco and Corban. "He's actually ace," said Lee, who'd joined the conversation. Hermione waved at Lee, who winked back.

"He's just _confused_! He just needs a good witch…" Ron said, sounding rather defeated.

"That's _not_ how any of that works," Hermione said.

"Here, Yax," George said, as he extended a goblet of punch to Corban. "Times have changed. No hard feelings—you've taken your lumps, eh? You're marrying a witch who's practically my sister—congratulations, by the way—_and_ you're a great duelist." Corban paused for a moment, glanced at Hermione, and then accepted the punch. "It could have gone either way," Lee said, nodding in Corban's direction. "You got a good Stinging Hex in at the end."

"But he's a _Death Eater_!" Ron blurted, just as Pansy came up behind him.

"And so was my father," she said. "And I tried to turn your best friend in to the Pretender. _And_ as your brother just pointed out, times have changed, Ronald," she said. "Congratulations, Draco, Mr Yaxley, and Granger," she said, nodding politely at all three. "Why don't you all come over there with us and sit down? The punch is very tasty, but the Potters are talking Quidditch again, and I'm bored—plus I'd rather like to find out where _you_ got your robe," and she nodded at Hermione. "And don't we have to make some sort of announcements or greet guests? And where's my refill?" George summoned a goblet for her; she plucked it neatly out of the air and grabbed Ron's arm. "Ronald, we talked about this before we grabbed that Portkey and you promised me you'd try to be nice."

"I _am_ being nice," Ron whined.

"You are not, now leave Mr Yaxley alone." There were not-so-quiet snickers from both George and Lee at this. "He hasn't done anything to you."

Ron seemed unable to make a complete sentence. "But…he was…and he's marrying…."

"—Your _friend_, so you should congratulate them both as well as _my_ friend, Draco, and then we should all welcome the guests to the party—which is why we're here in the first place." She let go of Ron's arm and gave Draco an A-frame hug and air kisses. "Congratulations, Draco; _and_ your club looks amazing," she said.

As she did this, a chime rung in Draco's pocket; he clicked his pocketwatch quickly. "Thanks, Pans, you're a brick," he said. "It's time for us all to get in place—"he began, as his parents approached. "Mother, would you stand with the Potters and Pansy and Weasley at the back door to greet? Hermione, if you would stand at the front door with Corban and Father and me and…Weasley, would you mind assisting?" He looked in George's direction.

"Lee, would you help Mrs Macnair with the punch?" George asked.

"We're just engaged, Mr Weasley, not married yet—" Lucinda said.

"Well, congratulations, anyway—" George said, as he stepped toward the door with the others.

Draco opened the door to reveal a group of six witches and wizards all clutching bits of random rubbish. "We're not early, are we?" said the first in line, Ernie Macmillan. _Leave it to a Puff to show up unfashionably on time with all his pals_, Hermione thought. "Oh, hello, Hermione! Congratulations!" he said, smiling at her. "Hi, Ernie, thank you!" she replied, beaming.

"Right on time, Macmillan, good to see you," Draco said. "Prefects reunion, am I right? Hello," he said, to the witch behind Ernie, who Hermione thought might have been a Hufflepuff two years behind them. "Go on in, you'll find the bar to your immediate left—cloak check on the right—we'll be starting the food service once more people get here…"

"Yes—hello, there….Greetings…welcome—" Hermione said, as she smiled and waved at the group. A small line had started to form behind them. Corban stood behind her, holding her hand; once the first group had entered the club, he whispered in her ear. "I'm fallin' for ya, sweetheart." She blushed.

"Corban, what are you doing?! I need you to be alert!" Draco hissed, as the next group approached the door, this one consisting of a couple of Ravenclaws and some older witches and wizards that Hermione thought looked like Hogsmeade residents. "Welcome to the Silver Serpent, please do come in—bar to the left, cloak check to the right—welcome, yes, hello there—"he gave a little wave to one of the witches.

"Congratulations, Miss Granger," one of the wizards said. "Hope to see you in Tomes and Scrolls again soon!"

"Of course; thank you!" After the second group had all passed through the door, Hermione whispered to Draco, "What do you mean, Corban's not doing anything-" then she paused, moving Corban's hand from around her waist. He was muttering, "So beautiful …" while nuzzling her neck.

"Weasley told me he was going to make that punch as close to actual Amortentia as he possibly could," Draco whispered back. "I want these events to be successful."

"Oh for—"Hermione grumbled. Corban was nipping at her ear. "Really, we have to greet guests—Draco is right!" she turned to George and tapped his shoulder. "Is there an antidote for your punch?" she asked.

"Possibly," George said, snickering. Corban had rapidly moved on to doing a sort of dirty boogie with Hermione, both hands around her waist, heedless of the fact that there were about ten more guests rapidly spinning into existence.

"I've always said you do extraordinary magic but I can't have my intended shagging me in the doorway!" Hermione whispered loudly. At that, even Mr Malfoy began snickering. George grabbed Corban by the shoulder and handed him a small bottle. "Here, Yax, drink this—it'll amplify the effects…"

Hermione scoffed; Corban said, "Thanks, laddie—sorry I scorched yer arse at the battle—"and drank the potion. He paused for a minute, blinking, as Draco and Mr Malfoy began welcoming the new guests. Hermione stepped up beside them and plastered a weak smile on her face.

"Er….sorry, sweetheart," Corban said, in Hermione's direction, as he dropped his hands to his sides. "Weasley—how about ye send along some of that for our wedding night?"

"It's not _all_ that strong, is it?" Hermione asked, looking a bit worried after the next group had filed in, most heading toward the bar. Another group, this one larger, stepped up to the doorway.

"Well…not _exactly_," George said. "Wanted to make up for that hair business; got a little carried away," he said.

"Hmph," Corban replied. "Been hopin' ye'd give it back one o' these days," he added.

"Tossed it out—didn't want anyone using it for Polyjuice," George said.

Draco turned to them, "Could you have that discussion later? I could use some help here—let's divide into two groups—get them in faster—" Corban gestured to two of the officers, who approached the door; all three wizards stepped around the greeters and out through the door to start wrangling the crowd. Draco conjured a velvet rope that appeared when the next group arrived, causing them to form an orderly line.

"I thought more guests were coming to the back door?" Hermione said, as she smiled and waved at Lisa Turpin.

"Mother and Father divided them up equally the other day," Draco said, as he shook the hand of a witch who Hermione thought had been in Slytherin, two years below her. "All right, Astoria?" he said. "Father—do look who's here," he said.

"Miss Greengrass," Mr Malfoy said. "A pleasure—do please go on in; refreshments are waiting for you at the bar—"he gestured toward it.

"Congratulations, Draco," said the witch, with a shy smile. "Congratulations, Miss Granger," she added.

"Have you ever felt like you were standing at the crossroads of all your possible futures, Granger?" Draco asked, as he took her hand.

"I have," Hermione said, and then nodded at the next group that had just Portkeyed in. "Welcome!" she said, brightly.

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AUTHOR'S NOTES:

The versions of the jazz standards I listened to while writing this fic are "At Last" by Etta James and "All of Me" by Billie Holiday…AFAIK Celestina Warbeck has covered neither. The Warbling Wizard's identity shall be a mystery until the next chapter.

Lucinda Wilkes (formerly Lucinda Avery) is an OC from my Dark Redemption trilogy as well as Nothing Else Matters—she and Walden Macnair and Lucius Malfoy were all friends and occasional lovers. Lucius sent her to America to administer his Connecticut estate, which she eventually purchased. Heather Macnair (Walden's daughter), Melissa Bell Macnair (Katie Bell's sister and Heather's wife) and Evan Macnair (Walden's second son) also appear in those stories.

I borrowed the "awkward Voldiehug" from the DH2 film; it's always made me laugh.

Dear Guest Reviewer: That makes a great deal of sense. I decided on the total of 500 participants in the Marriage Law by concluding there were about 30,000 witches and wizards in the UK. (…rather than 3,000 as JKR said in an interview once. That doesn't make any sense, because what would be the point of having such a bureaucratic crowded Ministry? Also, how would a population of 3,000 have hosted a 500,000 person event like the World Cup, even with magic? And if there were 500 students in Hogwarts, how did that exactly happen, even with Muggleborns and multiple births?)

So, like many writers before me, I will ret-con. There will be an addition to the law saying that each witch (or couple) must have at least 2 non-Squib children; and it will be interpreted to mean that H/D/C would be required to have four, which, of course, Hermione will NOT like. (I'm /not/ doing mpreg in this fic, but there might be a "test-tube baby" or two.)


	18. Chapter 18

_**Chapter 18 –**__** Better pay up now, don't interrupt**_

By 6:30, the club was nearly at capacity—the elves were serving canapés and hors d'oeuvres to the guests under the marquee, and a large, raucous crowd swarmed round the bar—Theo was serving Dragon Breath shots—and the music had kicked up a notch; some couples had made it to the dance floor already, possibly fueled by the punch.

Hermione was sitting in the conversation area near the bar having a bacon-wrapped shrimp and sipping a vodka soda. Draco, Ginny and Harry, all sipping punch, were inevitably discussing Quidditch. Pansy and Ron were doing a rather awkward two-step to "The Lady is a Tramp." When the song ended, Rowle spoke up. "Welcome, all, to the Silver Serpent. We're normally an after-hours club, but tonight, we're pleased to host you here for a very special celebration!" He held the microphone away for a second and there was a round of applause. "Thank you! Don't forget to tip your bartenders—look for the donation box behind the bar! We will be serving a light dinner soon, but for now, to get you all in the right mood, here's a number by the Warbling Wizard called "Love and Marriage!"

"_The Warbling Wizard?!"_ Hermione blurted. "That's Frank Sinatra! What in the bloody hell is wrong with these records?"

Just after she said that, Corban approached, bowed to Hermione, and held out his hand for a dance. She stood up. "There's _something wrong_ with these records," she repeated, as he escorted her to the floor. Harry and Ginny followed behind them.

"They sound fine to me, sweetheart. This is one of mine, in fact," Corban said, as he nimbly twirled her around Pansy and Ron, who were now attempting something that looked a bit like a rhumba. Harry and Ginny, who'd clearly forgotten all the pre-Yule Ball dancing lessons over the years, were moving more-or-less to the beat, smiles on their faces. Ernie Macmillan was steering a slightly younger witch around the floor in a very determined tango, while Mr and Mrs Malfoy waltzed effortlessly by.

"Well, all of the music tonight has supposedly been by either Celestina Warbeck or this Warbling chap, only—it isn't," she said, after he dipped her and brought her back up, and then kissed her. "My parents used to play this one."

He chuckled as he spun her around again. "Then they have good taste. Possibly they're Squibs. Draco and I are positive you're related to the Dagworth-Grangers _somehow_," he murmured, as he pulled her close.

"They would have had to be really great actors…" she said, allowing her voice to drift off as he kissed her again. "Or Obliviated," he said, before he twirled her again. "That happens sometimes." Hermione tried to not think too much about that as he pulled her close as the song ended, and they applauded.

Draco stepped up to the microphone. "Greetings, honored guests; for those of you who aren't acquainted with me, I'm the proprietor of this establishment, Draco Malfoy." There was applause. "Thank you! All of us in this room are aware that the Wizengamot has recently passed a certain law…." and he paused and looked up at the large sign on the wall. There were some hoots and even a couple of hisses. "…and it's not popular with _everyone_," and there was laughter. "So a few of my friends and I decided that we'd hold this party so that we can all get better acquainted…" and there were a few catcalls after this, one very loud one from George Weasley.

"Some of us have already got engaged, as you _might_ have heard," and he paused again and looked directly at Hermione and Corban, and moved his head slightly to the right; they came and stood next to him. There was laughter and applause again, and George Weasley said, loudly, "Do you need a fourth?"

Draco continued. "I'd like to make a couple of announcements before dinner is served—buffet style. Tomorrow, at brunch, there will be an opportunity for those who wish to get engaged to do so. Dervish and Banges, of Hogsmeade, will have a small jewelry selection available on site; there will also be a representative from the Ministry Registry Office on hand." There were gasps and applause at this. Corban squeezed Hermione's hand. "I think that's all for now—please enjoy dinner!" He clapped his hands and the house-elves trotted over and lined up under the marquee, and people began moving toward the food.

Mrs Malfoy glided over and escorted Draco toward the bar. Lestrange took the microphone and said, "If anyone has any requests, please bring them to us here at the DJ station. For now, enjoy the sultry sounds of Celestina Warbeck, performing "All of Me."

Hermione sighed. "_Only it's Billie Holiday_," she said, under her breath.

Corban chuckled. "I'd ask you to dance for this one but I need to go relieve Travers."

"Aren't you going to get food?"

"I'll wait till the line goes down," he said, and kissed her palm.

"I'll bring you a plate," Hermione said. "You need to eat."

"I don't deserve ya, sweetheart," he said, as he walked over to the cloak check area.

"Too right he doesn't," Ron said, as he planted himself in front of Hermione.

"What do you want, Ronald? Where's Pansy?"

"She's in the food line getting our plates, and I'm getting the drinks," Ron said.

"So you have a problem with me doing the same thing for my intended?" Hermione replied after a short pause, before turning away, "Go get your drinks, Ronald," and she grabbed a goblet of punch from a tray held by a passing hire-elf. "And pay attention to your fiancée, not me," she added. "I'm not having a repeat of the Yule Ball." She quickly began walking in the direction of the food. Everyone in the line was served efficiently, and with the aid of an elf she was able to load two plates and bring one to Corban, who was seated on a couch in front of the line of cloaks.

"Thanks, Hermione," Corban said, smiling. "Was Weasley bothering ya?"

"He's been doing so since we were eleven," Hermione said, sitting down next to him and picking up a piece of shrimp from her plate.

"I can't go back in time and fix that—because of course I'd want to fix a lot _more_ than that," Corban said, as he stood up and accepted two cloaks from a harried-looking wizard, and then handed him a token. "Thank you, enjoy yourself, sir—"he said, and he hung the cloaks up before sitting back down and folding a piece of roast beef into halves and making a sandwich with his dinner roll. "Anyway, Tosha told me that you and your friends destroyed all the Time-Turners, so we're out of luck there—"

"Tosha?"

"Dolohov," he answered, after taking a few bites from his sandwich.

"I…I just can't get used to…" Hermione began, sitting down the chicken tender she'd picked up. "He has a _nickname_," she finally said.

"I do know him fairly well," Corban said. "Wasn't going ta call him Antonin Aleksandr all the time, now, was I?"

"I…suppose not," Hermione said, picking up a carrot and crunching on it.

A witch approached the cloak check area, cloak in hand. She looked vaguely familiar to Hermione, possibly from her Ministry days.

"Good evening, Miss Granger," she said, and giggled. "I read about you in the _Prophet_. It's so romantic—there are so very few triad marriages these days, and those wizards are soooo good-looking and…well, you know…_dangerous_, especially that older one with the long hair—" and then she realized who had just stood up next to Hermione.

Corban extended his hand for her cloak. "Thank you, Madam," he said, slightly smirking. "We at the Silver Serpent certainly hope ya _enjoy_ yourself tonight," he said, in a voice that Hermione was sure he'd adjusted to sound low and vaguely threatening, as he ever-so-slightly raised his eyebrows. The witch nodded and scurried away quickly.

"Now that just wasn't nice," Hermione said, giggling.

"Never said I was _nice_, now, did I, just reformed," Corban said, after which he sat down and finished the rest of his sandwich and made another one. "Ya brought me exactly what I would have chosen—thanks," he said. "And sorry for all that earlier, with the punch," he added, after he took a couple of bites of the new sandwich.

Hermione finished crunching her celery and said, "Well, it was kind of funny. Just for future reference, though, don't ever take any food or drink from George unless he tries it first…on second thought, not even then."

"Oh, I always liked their shop—went there a lot…but it's going to take me a while ta get used ta seeing those two socially," Corban said, as he stood up and hung up the witch's cloak. "And it wasn't just the potion talking-I _am_ falling for ya; I would have rather said it to ya alone though." She looked up at him and he winked. "Can't help it-ye were held up to me as a shining example for all those years," and he sat down. "And Draco says he's been carrying a torch for ya since ya stood up to him back in school once, but he wouldn't give me any details," he added.

"I—er, called him a cockroach and punched him in the nose once—I hope that's _not_ what he meant," Hermione said.

"He likes strong witches, as do I," Corban said. "I mean ta say, just look—"and he nodded his head toward Draco and Mrs Malfoy, who were approaching the cloak check area, and stood up. "Narcissa," he said, and bowed and kissed her knuckles when she approached.

"Corban, how lovely to see you. Isn't there anyone else who can sit here? I was hoping you and Draco and Miss Granger would mingle about a bit more—"

"Travers needed a spot of relief—"

"I'll go find him," Draco said, glancing quickly around the room and hurrying off. Figuring that it was best that she not finish her food in front of Corban's former mistress, Hermione reluctantly sat her plate down and stood up.

"Why don't you two go find a table, I will sit here until Draco comes back," said Narcissa.

"Why don't ya ask one of the Manor elves ta sit here instead?" Corban replied.

"_You_ could call them," Narcissa gave a very slight smirk with her remark.

"I don't recall their names after all this time," Corban said, rather sharply.

"I'll—er—go find one and refill our plates, shall I? Pardon me," Hermione said, recalling that they were wearing green tea towels. At this point, even a conversation with Ron seemed more appealing. She waved her wand to hover the plates in front of her.

"I think I shall take Mrs Malfoy up on her _generous_ offer," Corban said, turning his back on Narcissa and holding his arm out to Hermione. "I see a place at a table just over there, sweetheart—"The Patil twins were the only ones sitting at it, and when they saw Hermione, they waved and beckoned her over. Corban escorted her to the table, plucked the plates out of the air, and bowed to the twins. "I am very pleased to make your acquaintance, ladies—if you don't mind, I'll be getting my intended some food as we were interrupted-pardon me."

"Ooooh, Hermione, he's soooo…" Parvati started to gush, after Corban walked out of earshot.

"If either one of you says _dangerous_, I may have to find another table," she said, but with a smile.

"As a matter of fact," Padma began.

"Well, _I_ was going to say rakish," Parvati said. "But definitely much more appropriate for you than Ron."

"That's saying something about me," Hermione said, "But I'm not sure what—"

"Ron is immature and will likely always be," Padma said, and Hermione recalled that she was, in fact, the witch whom Ron had ignored at the Yule Ball. They all paused, as an elf came around offering punch goblets on a silver platter.

"Be careful with this stuff," Hermione warned, as she took two goblets.

"Oh, we know, we saw George lurking over by the punch fountain when we came in," Parvati replied, and they all laughed. Just then, Corban returned with the plates and sat one down in front of Hermione first, then another one at a place next to her. "Ladies—ye do not yet have your food—may I escort ya, or get plates for ya?"

"We'll go and get ours—I can be a bit picky," Padma said, standing up. "It's nice to meet you, Mr Yaxley," she said. Corban bowed and kissed her knuckles and did the same to Parvati.

"Corban, I'd like you to meet Padma and Parvati Patil—they were both in my year at school, Parvati and I were in Gryffindor together—"

"Pleasure to meet ya, I won't hold that lion business against ya, seems I've become rather partial to them lately," he said, bowing to each again. They smiled and walked off together and Corban sat down. They enjoyed their food and drinks for a bit—Corban stood up when the twins returned to the table—and eventually Draco walked slowly over to the table and flopped down in a chair.

"Ladies, good evening," he said. "I'll greet you properly in a minute, I'm exhausted, need to rest my feet—"

"Draco, have you eaten anything yet? Or had anything to drink in the last hour?" Hermione asked.

"Only a bit of that punch," Draco said. Corban and Hermione looked at each other.

"That won't do," Hermione said.

"I'll get ye some food, brother," Corban said, and stood up.

"Hold on….what's the name of one of the Manor house-elves?" Hermione asked.

"Zippy," Draco said, and the elf appeared.

"Zippy, please get Draco a plate of food and a drink," Hermione asked. "Yes, Mistress!" the elf said, and vanished.

Parvati chuckled. "Times have certainly changed, Hermione—"

"That they have," Hermione said. She smiled as the elf brought a towering pile of food on a plate and a goblet of punch. Hermione flicked her wand at the water jug on the table and poured him a glass.

Draco looked thankful. "The snake which cannot cast its skin has to die," he said, after he'd taken a few bites of food.

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AUTHOR'S NOTES:

Many thanks to all reviewers! I hope you're enjoying the party chapters—there are more to come!

Frank Sinatra and the Nelson Riddle (yes, I picked this version especially) Orchestra are of course performing "Love and Marriage," famous from the 80s TV show, "Married With Children."

Draco's quote is from Nietzsche (and we will go with the current interpretation that he was _not_, in fact, an influence for the rise of deplorable German nationalism in the previous century; his writings were misused.)


	19. Chapter 19

AUTHOR'S NOTES/CASTING NOTES: Clara Selwyn is played by Amanda Abbington, Dahlia Parkinson is played by Kate Winslet, and Mafalda Hopkirk is as she appears in the films.

Also a warning: There is some tough, serious stuff in this chapter.

/waves at y'all

/thanks for reading!

_**Chapter 19 –**__** I'm so in love, I'm so sincere**_

After Draco made his way through most of his plate, he stood up and formally greeted the Patil twins, who smiled brightly at him. He then summoned Zippy the elf for a cup of coffee with cream and sugar, and beckoned to Hermione, who moved over and sat next to him. "My mother is up to something," he whispered to her.

"When are you snakes not?" Hermione replied.

"I'm serious," Draco said, glancing over at Corban, who was making polite small talk with Padma. "I'd ask Corban to find out what's going on but…you know the history there." He sipped at his coffee.

Hermione nodded, and then poured herself a glass of water and sipped at it.

"Anyway, when I went in the kitchen, she was at the back portico sending what looked like a Patronus. She kept asking Father and me to check the time, and now she's stationed him at the back door to 'greet late guests,' and she's camped out at the cloak check with Selwyn."

"None of that sounds particularly sinister; sounds as if she's being polite and ensuring everyone gets greeted properly—she mentioned when Corban and I were at the cloak check that she wanted us to mingle," Hermione said.

"Oh, you sweet summer lioness," Draco replied. "We have all sorts of greeters available. She's being obvious, though; that's not really like her." He sighed and took a long drink of his coffee, finishing it. "I suppose we really _should_ mingle—would you care to accompany me?" He stood up and extended his arm.

Corban stood up as well. "Miss Patil, it's been a pleasure," he said, bowing to her. "Draco, I'll go make me rounds—"he glanced over in the direction of the cloak check. "Didn't ya find Travers?"

"Selwyn volunteered to sit there; I've got Travers at the back door," Draco said.

"That works," Corban said, before he headed off in the direction of the bar—which was still crowded with witches and wizards queuing up for shots.

The music had gotten progressively louder and faster; as Hermione and Draco headed by the dance floor, she noted that the couples were mostly swing dancing to "Rock this Town," and she smiled.

"Oh, I do like this song," she said.

"I've always liked the Weird Sisters," Draco said; "I'll request one so we can dance later—"and he waved at Theo, who was spinning a pretty blonde witch around the floor.

Hermione figured it was best not to bring up the music provenance issue again and asked, "That's Tracey, correct?"

"Oh yes—he told me he's definitely proposing to her on Sunday—" He glanced toward the bar; George and Lee were now pouring the shots, and he muttered, "I hope to Merlin they're not dosing them _too_ much…" "Let's hope that Forge brought plenty of antidotes," Hermione replied.

"Shall we make a circuit around the marquee?" Draco asked. "See if anyone needs anything?" Hermione nodded and they proceeded. The tables were crowded with guests enjoying their dinner and drinks—everyone seemed well pleased; most were drinking the punch. Hermione waved at Seamus Finnegan and Dean Thomas, who'd moved to the table with Padma and Parvati. Ernie Macmillan and Susan Bones sat at two tables that had been pushed together and were crowded with Hufflepuff alumni, who were laughing and singing along to the music. Ginny and Harry sat at a table with Katie Bell, Angelina Johnson and Alicia Spinnet, and from the hand motions they were all making, Hermione knew that a spirited Quidditch discussion was occurring. Ron and Pansy, who were sitting very close together, were at a table with Justin Finch-Fletchley and an unfamiliar witch in dramatic tailored black dress robes and a matching fascinator. Draco inhaled sharply, pulled Hermione close, and whispered, "That's Pansy's sister, Dahlia Parkinson."

"Why does she sound so familiar?" Hermione whispered back.

Before Draco could answer, the song ended and Lestrange took the microphone. "Ladies and gentlemen…witches and wizards….sorcerers and sorceresses…if you've completed your dinner and pudding, it's time to put down your drinks, grab your partner OR partners and all your friends, and get out here on the floor for "The Loco-Motion" by Celestina Warbeck!"

The familiar tune started and Hermione groaned.

"What-don't you like this song?" Draco asked. "The dance is rather amusing—"

"It's not that," she said. "I'll have to explain later." The entire table of Hufflepuffs had gotten up and was in the process of squeezing by them with lots of "Sorrys" and "Pardons" and "Excuse mes." Ernie stopped and asked Hermione if she wanted to join in, but she politely declined, so he smiled and crooked his finger at Parvati, Padma, Dean and Seamus, who obligingly jumped up and joined the crowd.

"Should we enlarge it a bit—"Draco said, pointing at the dance floor.

"Probably," Hermione said, and they pointed their wands. Once the dancers realized they could spread out, they cheered, hands in the air, even as they jumped up and back, et cetera. Hermione glanced at the table where the unfamiliar Parkinson witch had been sitting, but she was no longer there—Pansy was currently feeding a piece of cake to Ron, who looked very pleased with the situation.

"Does it seem like it's getting a bit warm in here?" Hermione said, after they'd stopped at the conversation group near the bar so that Draco could check his shoe buckle.

"It does—not surprised—"he said, smiling and nodding toward the packed dance floor.

"I'll do an Atmospheric Charm," Hermione said, "Add a nice breeze, maybe a cloud up near the ceiling, nothing too dramatic—"

"Solid plan," Draco said, as he glanced over at the bar. "Would you like a drink?" he asked.

"Vodka soda, please—"Hermione said, before she raised her wand and pointed it at the ceiling and muttered the spell; the club instantly began to cool off.

"Nice one, Harmony—"Draco said. "Might want to monitor it every so often to make sure it doesn't rain, though," Draco chuckled. "Father told me they used to constantly have issues with that charm at the Ministry." He bowed to her and walked off.

"_Raining…in your office? That's—that's not good, is it? " Ron had been playing the part of Reg Cattermole….and Corban had been there—that's the first time she'd ever seen him, in fact—__**and**__ she'd been in the guise of one of his mistresses…consorts…whatever…."Not that any woman I married would ever be mistaken for such filth—"_

A chill ran through Hermione, one not related to the charm she'd just performed, and she looked toward the club, to the large banner on the wall with the runes atop it—_what really was the purpose of the Alliance? _ Was it beneficial, as Draco had said? Or was it something else, some sinister pureblood machination—and she was right in the middle of it, literally. She alternately stared at the sign and at nothing and felt her heart rate increase. She heard, somewhere at the back of her mind, the current song ending and Rowle announcing the next song ("Jailhouse Rock" by the Serenading Sorcerer), but instead of the upbeat rockabilly music, her mind was replaying, over and over, horrible conversations from a very eventful afternoon…

"_But if __**my**__ wife were accused of being a Mudblood…"_

"_Be sure and marry a Pureblood next time…"_

"_Spare us, the brats of Mudbloods do not stir our sympathies…."_

And a horrible, jeering laugh, quite different than the pleasant chuckles she'd heard for the past week or so, began to echo in her mind, and she felt a strong hand clamp down on her shoulder and she startled and screamed, but not loud enough to be heard over the music and the over-excited crowd.

"Sweetheart, are ya all right?" Corban said. "Did I startle ya? Only ya look like ye're a million miles from here—"He was standing over her, looking very concerned, his hand lightly caressing her shoulder—_not grabbing it roughly, as he'd done in the Ministry Floo_… His facial expression was completely different from the sheer hatred and malice she recalled seeing ten years ago. When he'd been chasing them down, he'd nearly been unrecognizable. And he'd not, she recalled, made any indication back then—when she was disguised as Madam Hopkirk—that they had a relationship other than as co-workers. _Then again_, she mused, _possibly that was against Ministry protocol_. He knelt down in front of her. "Can I get ya something?"

"D-Draco—he's gone to get drinks for us…" she stammered.

She looked up; the wizard in question was approaching with a goblet of punch in one hand and a mixed drink in the other. "Jailhouse Rock" was still playing, and the joint was jumping. "What's going on, Corban?" he said.

"Hermione was sitting here looking like the bloody Dementors got her, _that's_ what!" Corban said, angrily. "Did Weasley bother you, sweetheart? I haven't seen him for a while."

"N-not Ron," she said, accepting the drink from Draco and taking a sip. "He's over there with Pansy …" _and she suddenly realized why Dahlia Parkinson's name was familiar_, "…and her sister…."

"Her _sister_?" Corban asked. "Dahlia? Thought I heard she'd gone to France."

"I saw her, too," Draco said, and then he turned and looked toward the cloak check. "Where's my mother, and who is that witch sitting next to Selwyn? She looks a bit familiar," he asked.

Corban stood up and looked toward the cloak check as well. "That's _Mrs_. Selwyn," he said, frowning. "Clara." _That name was familiar, too_. Both wizards were now frozen in a sort of living tableau, staring at a third person at the cloak check, a witch, who had grey hair piled on top of her head in a hairstyle that was quite familiar to Hermione, because she'd worn it one morning with the aid of Polyjuice, ten years ago at the Ministry of Magic—Mafalda Hopkirk. She handed her cloak to Selwyn, who obligingly hung it up, and then she turned and started walking toward them.

"Sweet Salazar…" breathed Corban. "It can't be. I thought I heard she was getting married—"

"Well, that _is_ the purpose of this party," Draco said, and he added, a bit quieter, "And now I know what Mother was up to."

The drink had helped Hermione come back to reality a bit, and she slowly stood up and started to say something, but Rowle spoke up over the microphone, "All right, cats and kittens, once again, that was "Jailhouse Rock" by the Serenading Sorcerer—you'll hear more from him later, but for now, pound your feet to this particularly pleasing platter by Boris Pickett and the Crypt-Kicker Five…let's all do the "Monster Mash"! There was a cheer from the dance floor. _At least he got this one right_, Hermione thought.

Meanwhile, Madam Hopkirk had gotten close enough to recognize all three of them; her eyebrows rose a bit, and she didn't smile. Inevitably, Narcissa Malfoy, who had collected Clara Selwyn on the way, glided up behind her and took her arm and led her over to the group. Corban was so still and silent that Hermione wondered if one of the witches hadn't non-verbally hexed him.

Meanwhile, Draco switched over into host mode. "Madam Hopkirk," he said. "Welcome! Theo has been telling me how much he likes his new wand…and good evening, Madam Selwyn…and hello, Mother," he added. Meanwhile, the situation was getting increasingly awkward as Hermione spotted Pansy, her sister, and Ron all approaching, resembling a fashionable flotilla. Corban still wasn't moving, and Hermione almost imagined she could read his thoughts, which centered on rapid Disapparation, preferably of the black-smoke variety. "Oh, Pans, great! I was just looking for you," Draco said. "I was going to do some more announcements in a while—oh, hello Dahlia, lovely to see you again, and Weasley, hope you're enjoying yourself…"

"Yeah-nice party, Malfoy," Ron said, mostly politely.

"Yes, we're having a simply _smashing_ time," Pansy added. "I hope you don't mind, but Dahlia owled me the other day that she was coming into town and I invited her to come with us—"

"Not a problem," Draco said. _Well, for him at least_, Hermione thought.

"We told her it was just fine when we greeted her, Draco—"Mrs Malfoy said. "And Mrs Selwyn agreed the other day to help her husband; we were concerned that you'd be _understaffed_," she added, looking directly at Corban.

"Corban had things _well_ in hand," Draco said, and Hermione had to immediately think of a lengthy list of History of Magic facts to not start giggling inappropriately. Corban remained silent and motionless next to her. She slipped her hand into his, a fact that was immediately registered by all interested parties.

"Oh, I'm sure he can handle the day-to-day _convivial society_," she said, with a rather serpentine smile. "But we really needed all hands on deck for this effort—especially since _some_ of us are still wandless—no offense, Madam Hopkirk—"

"None taken," Mafalda said, even as she was staring daggers at Corban (as was Ron).

"Oh—"Narcissa paused. "We're being quite impolite here—Draco, would you do the introductions—not sure everyone here _knows_ each other," she added. _Although quite a few of us do, in the Biblical sense_, Hermione thought.

Draco cleared his throat. "Well, I'm sure that you all know my mother," he began. "Next is a witch who needs no introduction—"and he smiled at her. "My intended, Hermione Granger," and at this, both Ron and Madam Hopkirk turned their attention from Corban and glared at her, "And our third, Corban Yaxley," he added, and nobody said a word, including Corban, but he did give a very slight nod. "And Pansy Parkinson, my dear school friend, and her boyfriend Ronald Weasley," Ron gave a little bow, and Pansy waved her hand. "And Pansy's sister, Dahlia Parkinson…" he paused, and Dahlia smiled and glanced over at Mrs. Selwyn. "And Madam Mafalda Hopkirk, from the Improper Use of Magic Office—who has been instrumental in providing some of my employees with their restricted wands," and Hermione thought that it would likely be a very, very long time until Corban got one of those, if ever, at this point. "And finally, Mrs. Selwyn—I'm sorry, but I don't know your first name," "Clara," she said, smiling and giving a little wave.

There was a cheer from the crowd—"Monster Mash" had ended, and Lestrange was at the microphone again. "I hope that didn't scare you all _too_ badly—"and there was a burst of laughter. "We're going to play two numbers from the Serenading Sorcerer, by request—one fast, one slow—we'll do the fast one first, so you have time to find your sweetheart for a romantic slow dance—but like I said, witches and wizards, move your feet into these "Blue Suede Shoes"! There was a cheer as the dancing started up again.

"It doesn't look as if you two have had any food or drinks—"Pansy began, nodding in the direction of Mrs Selwyn and Madam Hopkirk. "Ronald and I would be happy to show you to the bar…and then I _insist_ that you come and sit with us…" At that moment, Hermione was prepared to forgive Pansy for every horrid bit of teasing she'd ever done at Hogwarts. "Dahlia, would you please go see if our table is still available?" she asked, as the group started filing away.

"Oh, but—I should probably see if Dexter needs my help—"Mrs Selwyn said.

"I will go sit with him for now—do please enjoy the refreshments—"Mrs Malfoy said, and she nodded to what was left of the group and glided away. _Because your work here is done_, Hermione thought.

"Nice to see you again, Corban," Mrs Selwyn said, as Pansy led her away. Corban remained silent.

"Wow," Hermione said, after a long pause during which she, Draco and Corban turned and stared blankly at the dancers.

"I can see that I'll have to have a talk with Mother before brunch tomorrow," Draco said.

Corban cleared his throat and looked down at Hermione's unfinished drink. She reached down and handed it to him and he drained it in one gulp. "I _would_ like to dance with ya to that next number, Hermione," he said, quietly, "If ye'll have me." "Yes," she replied. "Do ye mind, Draco?" Corban asked.

"Of course not," Draco said. "But if you please, save me the _next_ slow one. I'm going to find Father and have a word with him and then I'll see if I can find someone to sit at the cloak check—pardon me."

When "Blue Suede Shoes" ended, and the dancers applauded, Rowle said, "And this is for all you lovers out there," then cued up "Love Me Tender." Corban led Hermione to the dance floor silently and took her in his arms.

"It was a long time ago, but she broke me heart, dear lass," he murmured, as they swayed together to the song. "The one whose face ye wore. The others were just dalliances—just fancies-Narcissa, especially. And she was never happy about that—and she's never let me forget it," and he paused.

"I figured as much," Hermione said. He tightened his arms around her. "But you said—at the Ministry, when I was there…."

"I said a lot of things there, a lot of ignorant things, and there are those who have never let me forget _that_," he said. "I wish I could make ye forget it, because ye've repaired me heart."

.

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AUTHOR NOTES:

"Rock this Town" is by the Stray Cats

"The Loco-Motion" is by Little Eva

The quotes from Yaxley are canon (from DH—yeah, he's _that_ horrible)

Selwyn does not seem to have a canon first name so he got named Dexter (after the TV show)

"Jailhouse Rock", "Blue Suede Shoes" and "Love Me Tender" are all by Elvis Presley.

Rowle borrows a line from "Back to the Future" to introduce "Love Me Tender."


	20. Chapter 20

_**Chapter 20 –**__** Just like a well-known financier**_

When the song ended, Corban kissed Hermione passionately; they were not the only couple doing so—there was a bit of 'dead air'—after which he led her back to the conversation grouping. "I'll replace yer drink—thanks for that," he said, as she sat down.

"Yes, please—it was a…" "Vodka soda with a twist of lime," he finished, winking at her. "I pay attention to such things." _No wonder he was so popular with the witches; I don't think Ron would have noticed anything unless I dropped dead in front of him_, Hermione thought. "Looks like Draco's on his way back—"he said, as he headed toward the bar.

Rowle spoke up, "All right, lads and lasses, witches and wizards, and—elves, I suppose," and there was laughter. "We're going to speed it up a little with some 1960s goodness from the Melodious Magus," after which he cued up "Uptight (Everything's Alright)." Hermione groaned, and not quietly, but as there was another cheer from the dance floor, nobody heard her.

Draco, Seamus, and Dean approached. Seamus had a stack of what looked like miniature records in one of his hands. "All right, Hermione!" Seamus said, as she stood up and gave him a hug, and then hugged Dean. "Hi Seamus, hi Dean; how's it going?"

"Well—we figured we're going to give the DJs a chance to get out and about a bit—Malfoy said you all were going to make some announcements—good thing I went ahead and brought my records…"

"They aren't those dodgy ones with the wrong names on, are they?" Hermione asked.

Seamus laughed. "Me mam had those—they're a wizard thing—I have the real deal!" "Oh, thank Merlin," Hermione said. "Congratulations, you two, by the way—"Seamus said. "Yes, congratulations—"Dean added.

"Thank you," Hermione said, as Draco took her hand and spoke up, "Yes, thank you, both….you can head up there now if you like—I'm sure Finn and Roddy will be glad to take a break—"

The Patil twins approached and Dean said, "Come on—it's our time to shine!" They smiled and the foursome hurried away.

"We're going to have a little fun next—some themed dancing and so forth," Draco said. "Just go along with whatever I say—"he paused. "Oh good, yes, Corban should come up with us—"he added, as he spotted the other wizard approaching, two drinks in his hands. "And I did talk with Mother briefly," he added, under his breath, to Hermione.

She accepted the drink that Corban handed her as he tossed back a shot of single-malt. "Walden and, er…Mrs…no, wait, sorry-Madam Wilkes are back behind the bar," he said after he finished his drink. "Theo's doing the punch, Weasley and Jordan are off somewhere…"

"That could be interesting," Hermione interjected.

"Not too much so, I hope," he said, tugging at his collar and exhaling. "Walden says so far the beverage supply is doing well but we might need to check in an hour or so—and those two lads and those pretty Indian twins are switching out with Roddy and Thorfinn…"

"The lads are Seamus and Dean; they're friends of mine from Gryffindor—"Hermione supplied. "Wouldn't be surprised if there was a proposal from at least one of 'em tomorrow," Corban added.

At that moment, Seamus spoke up, "Welcome, all, to this fantastic celebration of the Marriage Law—well, the celebration is fantastic, the Law…not so much…" he said, to laughter. "I'm Seamus Finnegan, and this is my best mate Dean Thomas, and these two lovely ladies are Parvati and Padma Patil. Although this is the Silver Serpent, we're all Lions up here right now…" and Padma interjected… "_Excuse_ me…one of us is an _Eagle_, thank you very much!" "Oi, Badgers represent!" came a voice from the crowd and there was a round of laughter and applause. "So-on that note, Malfoy, would you come on up, please?" Draco, Hermione and Corban headed to the front.

"I couldn't let the other three Houses hang out up here by their lonesome," Draco said, and there was laughter. "We here at the Serpent pride ourselves on magical unity," he said, pulling Hermione close and giving her a kiss on the cheek. A drum riff sounded from Seamus' wand, and there were several catcalls and a loud wolf-whistle from George Weasley. "Has everyone got enough dinner, and enjoyed the pudding?" There were lots of shouts of "Yes!" and then a round of applause. "And have you had enough to drink?"

"Not yet!" shouted Lee Jordan, to laughter.

"There's plenty more where that came from—"Draco said, and there was the loudest round of applause yet. "Please be sure to tip your bartenders—there's a donation box for the Alliance for Magical Unity near the bar. And we'll leave out some snacks and pudding, and there will also be coffee, tea and butterbeer available—please be sure to thank the elves…" and both he and Corban looked at Hermione and smirked, as the crowd laughed and applauded.

"I still have my badge," Harry shouted, "Bargain at only six Sickles!" Hermione beamed at him and blew him a kiss.

"So far, how have you all liked the dancing?" Draco said, and there was another round of cheers and applause. "We're going to mix it up here a bit—"and he turned to Seamus. "Mr Finnegan, are you just about ready?"

"Born ready, Mr Malfoy," Seamus said, smirking.

"Has anyone seen my father?" Draco asked, to general hilarity.

"Right here, son," Mr Malfoy said; Hermione noticed that Dahlia Parkinson was on his arm, and nudged Corban.

"Great," Draco said. "First—for those of you who aren't interested in dancing at the moment, we've cleared out the marquee and added in a selection of board games—"and he gestured toward the tables, where Hermione glimpsed chessboards and Exploding Snap decks, as well as other games she didn't recognize. "...as well as a few more conversation groupings for those who have things to….er-discuss," and he winked, and there were more catcalls.

"But for those who are ready to move their feet—we're going to do a couple of themed numbers. The first one is Witches' Choice!" Draco said, and there was applause. "Witches, choose your partners and come on up to the dance floor," and he nodded at Seamus, who took the microphone, cued up the song, and said, over the intro, "Once you have your partners, come on and move your feet to Kool and the Gang, with their ever-so-cool hit, "Ladies' Night!"

Hermione glanced back and forth between Corban and Draco—Corban inclined his head slightly toward Draco, and she offered her hand to him, and he swung her out on to the floor. Dahlia Parkinson passed by in the arms of Mr Malfoy, and Hermione spotted the witch from the cloak check who'd called Corban "dangerous" offering her arm to him—he looked in her direction and she smiled and gave a short nod. Theo and Tracey danced by—both Hermione and Draco looked toward the bar, and saw George Weasley next to the punch fountain. "I'm not sure if _that's_ a good idea—""It's a _great_ idea, at this point," Hermione finished. He kissed her lightly. "Too right, Harmony," he said, and nodded to his left. Greg Goyle was there, dancing with one of the Hufflepuff girls—both had lagers in their hands; they both smiled and waved, and Greg said, "Hi, Harmony! Congratulations!"

Meanwhile, Justin Finch-Fletchley waltzed by in the arms of Mrs Malfoy, and Hermione had to stop Draco staring at them by whispering, "Justin's family are posh Muggles, you know—might be a business…er…merger," and Draco laughed. Harry and Ginny moved athletically around the floor, laughing as they attempted some disco moves, and Ernie Macmillan went by in the arms of Lucinda Avery. "What's going on there, do you think," Hermione whispered. "Macmillan and Walden are cousins," Draco said. "And he's very proprietary about that bar," he glanced in its direction. "Looks like the Selwyns are up there helping him—I guess that's all right…" Ron and Pansy danced by—Pansy was clearly leading, and Hermione gave her a grateful smile.

Mafalda Hopkirk passed them by with no apparent glance or comment; she was dancing with one of the MLE officers. "Are they supposed to be dancing?" Hermione whispered, once they were out of earshot. "As long as they make sure the entrances and exits are secure, and the bar's right next to the front door," Draco said. "Plus—remember, there are a couple of undercover Aurors here—"Hermione nodded and smiled and they danced happily until the song ended. Draco kissed her, and there was a round of applause.

"All right, folks—"Seamus said, and Dean took the microphone. "Witches have had their chance—it's Wizard's Choice now! Everyone off the floor—I'll give you a minute here—that was a good one, right? Wizards—start making your choices…" there was a pause during which Lee Jordan said, "What are you going to play and is it fast or slow?" Dean said, as he cued up the song and a flourish of music began…"Well, we're going to heat things up a little here with the Trammps and "Disco Inferno"!" There was a cheer from the crowd. Hermione, who was facing the bar, said, "What's Mr Macnair doing?" He'd run out from behind the bar to confer with Madam Wilkes, then he dashed over to Mr Malfoy, grabbed his hand, and pulled him out onto the dance floor. "Let's have a round of applause for our bartender this evening—clearly he knows good music when he hears it!" Seamus said, and there were a few chuckles and applause as the two began dancing.

Hermione was gobsmacked, and could only nod as Greg approached her for a dance. Draco winked at her, walked over to Ginny, and led her to the dance floor. Ron took Dahlia's arm and led her to the opposite side of the dance floor from Hermione. Harry danced by with Katie Bell, and Rowle danced by with Lee Jordan. Ernie and Susan Bones waved at Hermione as they passed her by, and then George and Angelina began waving their arms so enthusiastically that she wondered if the dance floor needed expanding again. She pulled Greg over in Draco's direction to ask him about it, passing by Mrs Malfoy and Justin, who looked rather bemused, but she tripped over her own feet when she spotted Corban dancing with Rodolphus Lestrange.

"All right, Harmony," Greg said, as he pulled her up effortlessly. "Hey, I wish things could've worked out, I miss you," he said, smiling at her. "I know—I'm sorry…" she said. "We had fun, though, didn't we?" She smiled back at him. "Was brilliant," he said - and she kissed him on the cheek, then surreptitiously waved her wand, expanding the floor just enough so that George and Angelina didn't fall off it.

* * *

A half-hour later, after a few more themed numbers—Sing-Along (to both "Bohemian Rhapsody," and "Paradise by the Dashboard Light," and Hermione joined in with her fellow Gryffindor alumni for these) and a couple of traditional English Country dances, which were mostly participated in by the older Slytherins (Corban was partnered with Mrs Selwyn and Draco with Pansy for these), Seamus came to the microphone and said, "All right, folks—hope you've enjoyed the music—we're going to hand the reins back to the house DJs in just a minute, but I want all you Hogwarts alumni to join us on the dance floor for some Yule Ball nostalgia—here's the Weird Sisters showing us how to "Do the Hippogriff"!

"Thank Merlin Finn didn't play this," said Draco, as he extended his hand to Hermione and led her onto the dance floor. They both glanced at the bar; Walden was calmly pouring out a line of shots for Corban, George, Lee, Rowle, Lestrange and Rookwood, and, surprisingly enough, Mafalda Hopkirk. Rookwood had his arm around Hopkirk and was smiling down at her. Meanwhile, Walden's fiancée stood next to him, smiling.

"Well, he does seem _much_ less frustrated now," Hermione said, as they started dancing. "Er—what was that all about earlier when he was dancing with your father?" she asked, as Draco pulled her close. He laughed. "Well—I told you this club had been around since the 1970s—father owned it then, and Walden and the others used to go all the time—" "Would those _others_ include my, er…other intended?" Hermione said, giggling. "He came along later, but father said he went every weekend, apparently—" Hermione got a sudden mental image of an outfit that her father had worn when she was young, involving wide collars and lots of polyester, and started laughing as she and Draco jumped and spun to the music.

When the song ended, Seamus shouted, "And we're going to finish our set with a Gryffindor favorite, "Big Beat Repeat"…GO GO GRYFFINDOR!" He handed the microphone to Thorfinn, grabbed Parvati, and pulled her onto the dance floor, where all the Gryffindors (including Hermione, although her memories of the song involved Ron snogging Lavender) had begun jumping around and dancing in a big circle. Draco gave a little salute and headed toward the bar. Hermione moved over to Harry and Ginny, who moved her between them. Ron approached, looking a bit sheepish, but he danced with them as well, and at the end of the song, when everyone applauded, he gave Hermione a half-hug and whispered, "I guess Malfoy's all right, but I still don't like that Yaxley bloke—"

"You don't have to like him, Ronald, just be polite—" she said, as the song ended and they all cheered.

Rowle said, "Thank you, Mr Finnegan and Mr Thomas for an outstanding set of music—I look forward to your assistance tomorrow at brunch! We're going to continue with the Weird Sisters, and their hit, "This is the Night!"

Pansy came walking up, smiled at Hermione, and took her arm and then Ron's arm and positioned herself between them. "Let's go get drinks, and you can _finally_ tell me where you got that fabulous robe."

* * *

Several hours later, the dance floor was still hopping and drinks were still flowing, although many guests had moved over to the gaming tables and the conversation groupings—especially the ones strategically positioned in the darker corners of the club on which those seeking privacy had used Muffliatos and Notice-Me-Nots. Some of the tables and chairs under the marquee were stacked up, ready to be deployed for tomorrow's brunch. Rookwood and Madam Hopkirk were seated close together on the couch in front of cloak check, holding hands; a very few couples—most of them smiling broadly—had begun to claim their cloaks and depart. Mrs Selwyn, who was caretaking their country house until her husband's parole term was up, had been one of the first to leave. Walden and Lucinda, arm-in-arm, were swaying to the music ("Do You Believe in Magic," which Hermione was pleased to hear was actually credited to the Lovin' Spoonful). Angelina had joined George at the punch fountain; an enthralled crowd watched as he floated seven goblets in the air in front of him and played along with the music by tapping them with his wand.

Hermione had mostly been dancing with Corban—they were both very happy when Rowle put on the entire "True Blood" soundtrack and just let it run through with minimal interruption. Once the record had finished and a "Weird Sisters" song (otherwise known as "Come Together" by the Beatles) had started, he'd gotten them both cups of coffee and escorted her over to the gaming tables, then excused himself to make rounds and use the loo. She'd been playing Exploding Snap with Harry and Ginny for about fifteen minutes when Draco came over and flopped down in the seat next to her. "Have you seen my parents at all?" he asked.

"Not for a while, no—"she said.

"Um-I think they're…er…over that way," Harry said, pointing discreetly to a conversation grouping around which the air shimmered. Ginny giggled. "Did you see who went in there with them, Potter?" Draco asked, as he squinted at the back of the chairs.

"Well…" Harry paused. "Justin…" and he paused.

"And?" Draco said. "And that tall witch with the black robe and the little hat who was sitting with Ron and Pans-"

"I think she's Pansy's sister," Ginny interjected, "Some flower name, Flora, maybe?"

"Dahlia," said Draco. "Well, I can't say I didn't expect _something_ like that," he added. "And Corban?" he looked at Hermione.

"Either in the loo or making rounds," she said, and glanced over toward the bar. "Looks like he's heading this way," she added.

He came over and pulled up a chair. "Hello, all. Things seem to be winding down nicely," he said, to Draco.

"Yeah—I was going to get them to play a slow number for the last dance here in a bit—Theo went to escort Tracey home, when he comes back we can probably give him the reins and let him shut this thing down along with Roddy, Finn, and Gus, since they're taking off first part of the brunch. I already sent Travers and Selwyn up for the night since we need them tomorrow…" he started to yawn, and covered his mouth politely, then waved his wand and Summoned a mug of tea. "It would be nice to have an extra wand, though—I wish mother would come out of there…"

"We'd offer to help but we really need to get back to Grimmauld and the kids here soon, it's a miracle my mom and dad haven't sent a Patronus yet—"Ginny said.

"Should I be doing something?" Hermione said.

"Well, us three, and you Potters," and Draco nodded at Harry and Ginny, "—and Pans and Weasley—let's run up there and announce the last dance—do you know where your brother and Pans went?"

"Looks like they're dancing," Ginny said. "Perfect," said Draco.

"Do we need to…er…make some sort of signal for the people in the conversation groupings?" Hermione asked.

"We'll flash the house lights and then turn them up," Corban said, and stood up. "Shall we?" The group made their way to the dance floor, and waited through "Getting Better" (once again attributed to the Weird Sisters), and then Draco took the microphone.

"Attention, guests—I wanted to thank all of you for making this the most successful event hosted by the Serpent in years—"and the crowd applauded; Hermione noticed that it had reduced by about two-thirds from its original size. "My intended, Hermione, and our beloved third, Corban…" and he paused and nodded to Harry, "And Ginny and I…." Harry said, "And Ronald and I…" said Pansy…"all of us hope that you have found a special someone, or _someones_, tonight, and we look forward to seeing you tomorrow at our informal brunch. And now, I would like to close the dancing with a reminder from the Weird Sisters that "Magic Works." There was applause as the song began, and Corban and Draco pulled Hermione onto the floor for a combined slow dance.

"Will ye stay with us tonight?" Corban whispered in her ear.

"Say yes, Harmony," Draco whispered in her other ear.

"How—how does that all work, exactly," she breathed.

Corban kissed her and murmured, "We get in bed and figure it out as we go along," and she felt a frisson of excitement at his words. "Might be _dangerous_, though…" he rumbled, and started to nip at her ear. She melted into his touch as Draco started to kiss her neck.

_Someone was saying something—was the music over? _

"**Oi, Malfoy!** The club's raining!" Ron yelled. Hermione heard a small clap of thunder and all three of them looked up. The cloud she'd put near the ceiling earlier with the Atmospheric Charm had morphed into a towering cumulus complete with lightning bolts and streaming water.

"You must have forgotten how to fix this, Ron!" she remarked, laughing, as she and Draco pointed their wands to the ceiling. They dispelled the cloud and dried up the water with Drought Charms. Not long after that, the music ended, and there was another round of applause as Draco flashed the house lights and turned them up, and guests started to depart the dance floor.  
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AUTHOR NOTES:

Thank you to my loyal reviewers! If you're enjoying the story please feel free to drop me a review or a PM.

Uptight (Everything's Alright) is by Stevie Wonder.

The actual Weird Sisters songs are from the "Goblet of Fire" soundtrack.

The dance between Walden and Lucius is a reference to one of my slash stories from 2002 which…/ahem/…might still exist on this site under a different pen name…and it's terribly dated as well.


	21. Chapter 21

_**Chapter 21–**__** You know I've never been corrupt**_

The next morning, Hermione woke before either Draco or Corban—both were sleeping soundly—Corban had one arm flung over his head, and was snoring lightly, and Draco was curled up with a small smile on his face. She summoned her robe, toothbrush and toothpaste from her bag and headed into the bathroom; as she glanced at the tub, a blush crept over her features, recalling what had happened in there, and elsewhere.

"_You're beautiful, Harmony…let me…oh yes—"Draco kissed her neck as he ran his hands over her breasts, paying particular attention to her nipples. Corban's head dipped down and he took one in his mouth, moaning with pleasure. She slid her hand under the water, and grabbed his erect shaft. "Keep doing that, sweetheart—feels so good…._

…_let's get on the bed—"Draco said, as he reached for his wand and banished the water from the tub, then dried all of them off with another flick of his wand. Corban carried her over in his arms, and laid her on the coverlet. "So beautiful—"Draco sighed. "Aye," Corban agreed. "Make love to her, brother—I want to watch—" Draco said…_

…_Sensus Incredibilus!"Hermione sighed…_

…_let me," she moaned, taking him in her mouth…"oh Merlin, oh yes, Corban, give it to her…oh yes…ohhh…Hermione!"_

The spells she'd used from the Slytherin Kama Sutra (again) didn't seem to have worn off, either—all her senses, not just the ones below the waist, seemed heightened, and she wondered if there was a cumulative effect. After she used the loo and washed her hands, she brushed her teeth, staring both at her reflection in the mirror and beyond it. Last night had been a unique experience, but overall it felt right, and she was most definitely satisfied. Although she imagined there might be some awkward conversations in the future with her parents (if the relationship lasted, of course) and any of her friends or acquaintances who had not attended the party, most of the people in those latter groups were either aware of the Marriage Law or involved in it, so they'd have their own issues to deal with.

She thought of the list of questions that she'd composed earlier that week. Nearly all had been answered—other than where they were all going to live, and considering that Malfoy Manor was likely to get new residents in the near future, even if she _had_ wanted to live there, it was off the table. Draco had mentioned a London house, but if she was going to be a Hogwarts professor, being in London wasn't strictly necessary, so possibly Corban's house was the best choice. However, how long was the parole work-release programme supposed to last? During what she was now calling her Lost Year, she'd read _Prophet_ articles about Ministry goings-on without paying much attention or recalling details. She rinsed out her brush and set it down on the counter. Should she leave some personal care items here, or wait until they figured out the living situation?

"Go ahead and leave that there, Granger," said Draco, as he padded into the bathroom and came up behind her. "Might as well hang up some of your clothes, too—I'll have to see about getting you a more suitable robe, though," and he flicked at the sleeve of her Gryffindor robe. "School's been out for a long time now, thank Merlin," he said.

"You know I'm likely to be working there soon," she said, as she turned to face him, leaning up against the counter. He was wrapped in a black silk lounging robe, his hair artfully askew; her heart gave a little leap.

"Pardon me for a moment, because I do want to hear all about it," he said, as he stepped into the loo. When he came out, he washed his hands and then summoned his wand. "Here—let's add another sink—"he said, and she backed up and assisted him in that task. "And…maybe a bit more closet room—"he flicked his wand in that direction. "And—that tub—just a bit larger, you think?" he smiled at her. "And…two more shower heads…perfect."

"Should put in another loo, as well—this one likes to take her time in here," Corban said, as he walked past, his hair unbound and flowing over his shoulders. He'd not bothered to put on a robe or clothes and she stared at his backside as he went in the loo and closed the door behind him.

Draco smirked. "He does have a rather nice arse, doesn't he?" She stared at him. "What?" he asked. "He's got a nice package, too."

"He does—"Hermione said, pausing.

"What, you act like I wasn't looking last night when he was plowing you," Draco said. "That was damned hot." He cleared his throat. "Anyway-"he began. "You applied for that Runes job, didn't you? Theo mentioned something about that," he said, as he started walking toward the door. "Come on, let's go sit down—that is, unless you're more interested in just grabbing Corban's cock the minute he comes out of there…" he said, smirking.

Corban's voice came through the closed door. "_I can hear ye two, ya know—I'll bring it out when I'm done…_"

Hermione blushed and Draco laughed loudly. "You'd better hurry up, she's Transfiguring into a tomato—"

"Sweet and juicy, the way I like it," Corban growled, as he opened the door. He was partially excited. "Get your arse on the bed—or wait, let's go in there—"and he gestured toward the shower.

"Mmm, yes, let's," Draco said, dropping his robe.

"But—"Hermione said, looking hesitant.

Corban walked over to her and untied her robe belt and then slipped the robe off her shoulders and put it on the bathroom counter. "I want to fuck ye again, but I _need_ ta get under that hot water, I'm a little sore after yesterday and last night—"he said, slipping the robe off her shoulders. "Mmmm, ye're so beautiful…" he sighed, running his hands over her breasts.

Draco flicked his wand and started the shower. "Come on, Harmony—I'll wash your hair for you—"

"You've talked me into it," she said, taking Corban's hand and allowing him to lead her into the shower.

Thirty minutes later, they were satisfied, clean and dry. Corban drank a Pain Relief Potion as they lay together on the bed, Hermione's head pillowed on his chest. Draco rubbed her feet. Soft jazz courtesy of BBC 4 played on Hermione's radio.

"Should I summon us some breakfast?" Draco asked. "I'll pop downstairs for a second."

"Why do ye even have to ask, brother?" Corban said. "I could bloody well eat a Thestral," he added. Draco sat Hermione's feet down and pulled the sheet over her and Corban and then got up and donned his robe and quietly left the room.

"Not much meat on their bones, though, really—"Hermione said.

"True—an Abraxan, then—but right now I'd settle for some bacon and sausage," he said. "And some coffee—"He glanced up at the grandmother clock on the wall. "Me doughnuts won't even bloody get here for another two hours—why the fuck are we awake so early?"

"Sorry," Hermione said. "Old habits."

"Hmph—reminds me of me Ministry job—everyone knew not to bother me for the first hour or so—"he said, frowning. "Of course if ye'd been there I'd have just had ya suck me off under me desk; that would have been right pleasant—"

"I _was_ there, that one time," she said, winking at him. "And you didn't ask me to do that—"

"Er…I never asked _her_ to do that either…_exactly_—"he said, smirking. "And I'll say no more, a gentleman doesn't kiss and tell."

"Good to know," she said, pushing down the sheet and then rolling over so she was on top of him. He pulled her into his arms and kissed her. "I shall extend ya the same courtesy, of course," he added. "Hmm…looks like he's waking up again—"he said. "Why don't ye climb on for a ride?"

"What if Draco comes back?"

"He can bloody well put the food under a Stasis Charm and join in—"and he groaned with pleasure as she complied, sliding his hands down and positioning her. "Oh _fuck_ yes," he grunted. "So good, mmmmmm…" he closed his eyes. "So sweet and hot…not sure I'm gonna last long…"

Hermione was transported with the feeling and was melting around him, her eyes slitted with pleasure, when a flicker of movement out of the corner of her eye surprised her.

"Corban!" she shouted.

"Oh sweetheart, I'm all yours," he groaned, as he grabbed her hips and started to thrust faster….and then she opened her eyes completely and screamed. "_Fuck yes_!" he growled. "Scream for me, I'm nearly there…" and his words disintegrated into incoherency as he groaned through his orgasm.

"CORBAN! DOLOHOV IS STANDING RIGHT NEXT TO US-HOW DID HE GET IN HERE?!" Hermione shouted.

Corban's breaths slowed down and he gasped, "How the hell should I know—…._**WAIT**_….TOSHA?!" He grabbed Hermione by the waist, flipped her over, and pulled the sheet over her. Meanwhile, Dolohov stood by the bed, once again wearing an open robe; he was not singing, but he had a big grin on his face.

"Brother, what are ye doing in here? How did ye get out of yer room?" Corban asked, in a remarkably calm voice. Hermione, meanwhile, was hoping she could just sink down into the mattress and vanish; however, her wand was out of reach on the bedside table, and Disapparation anywhere else in the club whilst naked seemed a bad idea.

Meanwhile, Hermione heard Draco saying, "All right you lot, breakfast is-" and then the sound of a tray crashing to the floor made everyone jump. "WHAT THE BLOODY HELL?!"

"Thought there was a Revel," Dolohov said, in a heavily-accented voice, after he'd calmed down from the sudden noise. "Was going to join in."

Hermione made a small noise that was akin to a disgruntled squeak. Meanwhile, Draco was using his wand to attempt to repair the breakfast tray, which he'd nearly tripped over, and grumbling all the while. "Well, this is all ruined—…"

"_Preevyet_, Miss Granger," Dolohov said, and bowed to her. "Good to see you looking so well; _khoroshaya zadnitsa."_

"Don't translate that, Tosha," Corban said, as he swung his legs over the side of the bed, sighed, grunted, and then stood up. "That's me intended you're talking about; we're not doing Revels right now," and he paused, running his hands through his hair, smoothing it down, then picking up a black hair-tie from the bedside table and fixing it back into a queue. "Draco, do ya have a robe I can borrow—not sure where me clothes went."

Draco waved his wand and sent a robe flying in Corban's direction, which he donned. He walked over and found Hermione's robe where it lay abandoned on the bathroom counter, sat it on the bed next to her, and smoothed his hand over her hair.

"Pardon me," Hermione said, in a small voice. "But…er….how _did_ you get in here, Mr Dolohov?"

"Opened my door, went to look for Banya, when I couldn't find him I came down here and opened this door," he said, in a very matter-of-fact tone.

Draco came up behind him, waving his wand in his direction while scowling. "Only he doesn't have any block on his magic—"he said. "_Potter_ didn't check him the other night because he was asleep!"

"So _that's_ what you meant when ye said they didn't put ye in the rehabilitation centre," Corban said. He looked extremely annoyed.

"_Da_," Dolohov said. "They did not give me the magic-suppressing potion, either."

"It sounds like…" Hermione began, as she sighed, sat up, and picked up her robe, then stood up and donned it, figuring that modesty was rather pointless, as Dolohov was still standing there at the foot of the bed practically naked (and once again, partially excited) and the other two wizards had already seen just about every part of her. She hoped Dolohov noticed the purple scar. "I mean to say, Draco, it sounds like someone is attempting to fuck with your parole programme." Corban pulled her close and they sat together on the bed.

"Literally," Corban said. "Although _not right now_, Tosha, would ya bloody well close your robe—"he said; as he'd listened to Hermione's words, Dolohov had begun to grin widely again and move toward the bed. "I mean it, laddie—you're upsetting her—"

"I do not wish to upset you, Miss Granger," he said, and closed his robe and bowed to her.

"Er…thank you?" she said, meekly.

"I think you're right, Harmony," Draco said, as he sat down heavily on the couch. Dolohov walked over and sat next to him, and then picked up a piece of toast from the wreckage of the breakfast tray. "Don't eat that, Dolohov, it's been all over the floor—"

"Not any worse than what they served in Azkaban…" Dolohov replied, before he started munching. Draco sighed. "Everyone's dressed?" He looked around at the others. "Zippy!" The elf appeared. "Please take this away and bring breakfast and coffee for four," he said. "We shall eat in here."

"Could ya please bring some chocolate doughnuts as well?" Corban asked, plaintively. The elf smiled and blinked away.

"I wouldn't be surprised," Hermione began, "if you were to check those charms in the walls, the ones you said were there to dampen wandless abilities—I suspect they've been removed…" she glanced around, as if to confirm her thesis, and shivered in Corban's arms. He nuzzled her neck. "I'm sorry, sweetheart—I thought when ye screamed, ye were—ya know...reaching your peak…" "Well, I did, and then I saw him there—"she muttered.

"You're quite beautiful when you are aroused, Miss Granger," Dolohov said.

"Tosha—would ye please…not right now…" Corban said.

"Zippy has brought breakfast for Masters and Miss!" the elf shouted. Three covered platters and a carafe appeared and then floated slowly down and landed on the coffee table.

AUTHOR NOTES:

/waves at y'all/

My DH says that "Everybody loves Dolohov" sounds like a sitcom.


	22. Chapter 22

_**Chapter 22 – I'll pay you a compliment**_

Draco enlarged his coffee table and Hermione quadrupled his desk chair so that everyone had room to sit down comfortably. There was not much conversation during breakfast, other than polite requests to pass things. About halfway through the meal, Dolohov excused himself to use the loo. "We'll have to do something—"Draco said in a low tone while stirring sugar into his coffee. "I _hate_ doing that magic-blocking spell but he simply can't wander around—maybe I could just give him some Dreamless Sleep? The Prophet is sending over a reporter today to cover the engagements—that was the deal I made to keep them out of the party last night…"

"Weren't ya already givin' Roddy the day off because of—"Corban cleared his throat. "—er, because of one of the wizards coming in today havin' an issue with him? Maybe he could keep an eye on him for ya?" He reached over and selected a doughnut and then bit into it with an audible sigh of pleasure. After he finished it, he took a long drink of coffee.

"Yes—it's because of the food coming from the Leaky Cauldron—"he said, as an aside to Hermione. "Or rather, the decorations coming from Longbottom—"Hermione recalled a sobering afternoon many years ago at St Mungo's and a collection of Drooble's Gum wrappers, and nodded. "Anyway, Finnegan and Thomas can handle the music and then hand it over to Finn for the proposals and all that—they did a fine job last night…"

"Liked when they had the traditional dances—"Corban said, reaching for another doughnut. "I'd love to teach ye them, sweetheart—"he said, to Hermione. "Was hoping we could do them at our wedding." He smiled, and then took a large bite of pastry.

"I don't see any reason why not," Hermione said, and Draco added, "Of course we can—all this excitement and we haven't even given a thought to planning our own celebration," and he paused. "But we're going to have to wait…"

"Are we going to do the Revel now?" Dolohov said, as he approached the table. He'd shed his robe and wrapped a towel around his middle. "NO!" said Draco, Hermione, and Corban, more or less in unison.

"Tosha," Corban began, in a rather compassionate tone. "There's not going to be a Revel today. Can you do something, old friend, just for me?"

"Of course, Banya, anything for you."

"Could you possibly stay up in your room with Roddy and play chess today? Gus and Finn will come by as well. Just need ya to stay in till about…oh, let's say…eight tonight-"he glanced at Draco, who nodded. "Maybe go have a shower now and a bit of a lie-down, if ya've finished eating?"

"Already took shower," Dolohov said. "For the Revel."

"Yes, well—we, er, had to postpone it for today," Draco said. "Er—the Marriage Law and all that, you know."

"Wanted to meet up with you and Miss Granger later, Banya, will you ask her to choose me tonight?"

Hermione's jaw dropped. She recalled reading the rather salacious _Prophet_ story about the Revels one late afternoon when she was by herself at the Burrow not long after the Battle. There had been a large black text bar above the story, stating that "Underage Witches and Wizards Should Not Read This Section," which she found rather hilarious. Apparently, witches attending the Revels were permitted to pick their sexual partners and were given selection cards to do so. As she mused over that memory, she realized everyone else at the table was staring at her.

"Er—you _could_ just ask me directly…" she said, offhandedly.

"Except that there _isn't_ going to be a bloody Revel today, Dolohov, will you _please_ get that through your skull," Draco said. "For the love of Merlin," he sighed. "Please just sit down and finish your breakfast and—"he waved his wand and said, "Roddy, could you come to my room as soon as you can—the door's open," and then sent his Patronus away.

"Oh, are you choosing Roddy, Miss Granger? Good idea; Banya will probably be busy dancing with Clara," Dolohov said, as he sat down and picked up a piece of toast and started eating it.

_Oh my Godric_, Hermione thought. "_Dancing with Clara," indeed! How on earth did the Malfoys manage to work Corban's busy social life into those Revels in the first place without a computer spreadsheet? _She couldn't resist and said, "I don't know the traditional dances yet; probably so." Draco and Corban both snickered.

"Good morning, all," Lestrange said, as he walked into the room; he'd clearly just tossed a robe over his head and tied his hair back. "You rang, Draco?" He paused. "Tonin—what are you doing here?"

"Having breakfast," Dolohov said, as he sipped on a cup of coffee.

Hermione waved her wand and created another chair for Lestrange, who nodded at her politely. There was plenty of food left on the platters. Draco waved his wand and poured a cup of coffee for Lestrange; he'd just picked it up when a knock came on the door. "I'll go answer it," Corban said, with a sigh. "Need to use the loo anyway—"

Theo, Macnair, Travers, Selwyn, Rowle and Rookwood all came piling in, looking curiously at the breakfast table. "Are we eating up here because the kitchen table's packed away?" asked Rookwood. Walden nodded politely at Hermione and selected a doughnut. Draco and Hermione looked at each other and silently enlarged the room and table, and added more chairs, and then Draco summoned Zippy and ordered more food and coffee, then whispered in Hermione's ear, "I swear to _Merlin_ if Dolohov says one more thing about a gods-be-damned Revel…" then he spoke aloud. "Yes, Gus, well spotted—have a seat, you lot."

With several mumbled "Good mornings" and "Miss Grangers" and polite bows, the rest of the parolees found their chairs. Selwyn and Travers seemed the most alert of the bunch. When Zippy brought the food, the new arrivals tucked in. Hermione refilled her coffee. When Corban returned from the loo, he stared down at Walden until he moved out of the seat next to Hermione, then he sat back down and offered her a doughnut, which she decided to take, even though she was mostly full from breakfast. Draco excused himself for a loo break, checked the owl post, and returned with a stack of _Prophets_, which he doled out to Hermione, Theo, Corban, Walden and himself.

"Aaaarrgh!" Hermione was a very fast reader, and she shook the front page at Draco. Next to a picture of the line outside the Silver Serpent last night (and a note reading "Party Details, page 2) was a large headline reading **MARRIAGE LAW AMENDMENT PASSES.** The gist of the story was that each couple was now expected to have two non-Squib children, rather than one, before ending the Ministry-sanctioned marriages. "I can't believe those horrible old geezers were meeting last night, and I'm not sure if this means that we-" and she gestured at Corban and Draco, "need to have four children in total—I'll have to read the fine print—but knowing them, we probably do!"

"You're going to be one of those 'geezers' soon enough, sweetheart. And if we need to have four children, we'd better get back to it, then," Corban said, winking at her.

Draco chuckled and then muttered "_Oh Merlin, no_…," as Dolohov, hearing his words, had just stood up and dropped his towel.

"We don't need to see your todger at the breakfast table, Tonin, give it a rest," Lestrange said. "As long as you're up, though, pass me the bacon."

Dolohov obliged, and then said, "Roddy, Miss Granger has already taken her pleasure with Banya—most delightful—and she's choosing you now, so you should probably go clean up."

"_**I am not!**__"_ Hermione blurted.

Draco stood up and brandished his wand, which was spitting out red sparks. "Dolohov, go put your robe back on and hang my bloody towel back up! For the LAST time, we are NOT having a Revel right now; I just want to finish my fucking breakfast—and I mean eating—I mean consuming food, not any other thing! Roddy, Gus—would you please escort him to his room? I'll be right behind you—"he nodded to Corban. "Would you come along too, mate?"

"Come on, Tonin," Lestrange said, taking him by the arm. "Let's go find your robe."

"I'll get it, Roddy," Corban said, heading toward the bathroom. Rookwood took Dolohov's other arm and they led him out through the door.

"And he just left my towel on the bloody floor!" Draco said, angrily. "Zippy, would you please make sure this gets laundered?" The elf obligingly disappeared with it as well as some of the empty plates and platters from the table, and Draco walked off behind the others.

Hermione continued reading the _Prophet_. The article on the party was complimentary; the pictures—like the one on the front page-were all of the lines outside the club, and everyone in them looked excited and happy to be there. The article ended by saying that further coverage of today's brunch would be in a special edition later this evening, with exclusive engagement pictures.

Hermione turned to Walden. "Is Madam Wilkes coming back today?"

"Och, aye, I wanted her to stay here last night but I was worried about the parole restrictions," he said, frowning, and then he glanced up at the wall clock. "She'll be here in about an hour, though, need to go get ready—excuse me," he said, standing up and bowing in Hermione's direction. "Theo, lad, I'll meet ye down there in a bit—"he added.

"Tracey offered to come early and assist, as well—"Theo stood up. "So I'll excuse myself. Travers, Selwyn, if you both could come down and help me after you get ready, Draco asked me to get the tables set back up—"He walked out the door behind Walden.

"Of course," Selwyn said. "Clara's coming back today, also—"He stood up. "So I should go have a wash-up. " He stood up, folded his napkin and set it on his plate, and departed behind the other two.

"So here we are," Rowle said, glancing over at Travers, who'd picked up the _Prophet_ and was intently reading it. "Meant to ask you last night-Miss Granger, you wouldn't happen to know the status of Weasley's friend, would you?"

"Er…which one?"

"Yes, there are rather a lot of them, aren't there," he chuckled, as he drank his coffee. "The good-looking bloke, friends with the one who owns that brilliant shop; told me he used to do Quidditch announcing," he clarified.

"Lee Jordan," supplied Hermione.

"Yes, him—think he might be interested in a proposal?"

"I…" she paused, recalling the brief conversation they'd had about Charlie Weasley. "_Possibly_—"she said. "If you don't mind me asking, though, how would that work for the Law? Didn't you mention something about finding a witch?"

"I'm not picky that way," Rowle said. "And we'd adopt a Mu-Muggleborn orphan," he added. "Already looked into it."

"I think you should ask him, then," she said, and Travers said, "Definitely ask him—I came back down to see if Theo and the others needed help after you went up and Weasley was practically dragging him out of here. I think he would have camped out if we'd let him."

Rowle jumped up. "Gonna go get ready then—cheers, all!"

Travers stood up. "I'll excuse myself as well, it's been a pleasure, Miss Granger, see you down there…it'll all be over soon." He bowed and smiled and both wizards departed. Zippy popped back in and started clearing the table; just as he'd removed the last plate (leaving behind the pile of _Prophets_), Corban, Draco and Rookwood returned to the room and sat at the table. Draco Vanished the extra chairs and reshrunk the table.

"Well, he's in there with Roddy—I did that horrid spell, it made me feel so dirty," Draco began.

_Dirtier than an Unforgivable?_ Hermione mused, but decided to keep that to herself, concluding that Purebloods likely found the blockage of their magic to be unforgivable. She stood up from the table and glanced around the room for her belongings, finding her neatly folded (via _Devestire_) stack of clothes next to Corban's in front of Draco's bookshelf. She quietly walked over to retrieve them, not wanting to interrupt Draco.

"_And_ I added extra charms to his walls, and-oh yes," he Summoned a bottle of potion from his drinks cupboard. "And Gus, would you please go back and give him this and make sure he drinks it? And after that, I'd appreciate it if you and Corban could watch the back door and the Floo while I get ready? My parents should be getting here in about an hour—I hope…did you see them leave, by the way?"

"They left with, er, that Parkinson witch who you used to date—"and Rookwood looked at Corban.

_"'Date'_ is overstating it," Corban said. "I fucked her twice at two Revels—by _her_ choice, I might add—_then_ she owled me at the bloody Ministry and demanded a consort agreement else she was going to go tell Mafalda what we'd done. I was lucky to get out of that mess with my position, accounts and bollocks intact and minus a few baubles—"and then he stopped, realizing that Hermione was clutching at her pile of clothes and staring at him. Clearly, he'd assumed she'd gone to the loo.

"Er…who else did they leave with, Gus?" Draco said, finally, to break the awkward silence.

"Justin Finch-Fletchley, you remember him, he was in our year," Hermione interjected. "He's that tall, _dark_ and _handsome_ one?" She stared daggers at Corban and Draco looked between them both, hoping he wouldn't have to put up a Shield Charm. She smiled insincerely and continued. "Of course, he's Muggleborn like me, so _sadly_, I couldn't consider him, but he is terribly posh so I suspect he's well up to Malfoy standards." Then she paused and Summoned her purse, then her radio, and stowed everything away. "And if you all would pardon me, I'll be heading back to my flat now—I've had _quite_ enough excitement this morning to be going on with—I'll be back around 130 or so—I do hope that's all right, Draco. Would you mind escorting me to the Floo, Mr Rookwood?"

Corban stood up. "Wait! I'll escort you!"

"That won't be necessary, Mr Yaxley, I know where it is," she said, turning on her heel and heading toward the door.

Draco stood up. "Wait, Harmony—_I_ will escort you," he said, and dashed up behind her. He closed the door behind them and she heard a loud thump and a muffled "_Fuck_!" "I'm sorry about that," he said, once they'd gotten to the bottom of the stairs and entered the kitchen. "He can be a little—"

"Earthy," Hermione said. "I was well aware of it when I got into _that_ mess," she added, scowling. "He was forthcoming about all his past entanglements."

"If you're considering making any hasty decisions I would advise you to sit down, have some tea then take a nice long bath and get ready for this afternoon and forget about what he said, because it was no reflection on you. After all, he proposed to _you_ and he never proposed to any of those others," Draco said, as he fiddled with the belt on his robe.

"Only because there's a law enforcing it, and he doesn't want to go back to Azkaban. _And_ he pretty much admitted that he didn't propose to Madam Hopkirk because Vol—the Pretender started an inconvenient cock-blocking war," Hermione said, as she reached up for the Floo Powder.

"Yes, speaking of that sort of thing—sorry to change the subject—but could you please find out if Potter could get over here a bit early? I need to have him check over the charms and so forth. I think you're correct—someone is trying to mess with my programme, and I really can't afford any fuckups or else the Ministry will find some way to send the lot of them—except Theo, I suppose—back to Azkaban."

"They can send _one_ of them back today as far as I'm bloody concerned," Hermione said.

"Please, Hermione. I'm sorry he was such a colossal berk. I know he didn't mean to offend you." He gave her a truly endearing smile. "If you _really_ wanted to mess with him you could always wait until you get his last name, access to his accounts, _and_ his Wizengamot seat, and _then_ find a way to send him back there. You've still got me, you know." He leaned in and gave her a kiss, and then watched as she stepped through the Floo.

.

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AUTHOR NOTES:

The Revel references are from "Date with an Executioner" and "Nothing Else Matters," in which the Dark Revels at Malfoy Manor became, over the years that Voldie was out of the picture, a series of overly-choreographed seasonal swinger parties…at least here in the Cid62-niverse. Other authors have alluded to similar things, so IMHO it's fanon.


	23. Chapter 23

PREFACE: To change things up, this chapter takes place from the POV of Draco and Corban.  
There are about four more chapters to go in this particular tale; I hope you all have enjoyed it as much as I've enjoyed writing it. (I may take on a Dolohov-themed fic next—no promises!)

_**Chapter 23 - **__**And you'll think I am innocent**_

Draco walked back to his room slowly, not looking forward to the upcoming conversation. Rookwood was reading the _Prophet_, and Corban was slumped over in his chair, head in his hands. "Gus, would you mind terribly heading downstairs?"

Rookwood stood up and folded the paper under his arm. "Not at all; and Yax, I'm sorry I got you in trouble."

"Ye're not the one who said the stupid shite," Corban said, after a bit, during which he slowly sat up and looked at his friend. "I hope ye're happy with Mafalda; she's a good lass."

"I think we probably will be—thank you, brother," he said, as he turned and started to walk from the room.

"My doughnuts should arrive any minute, please stow them under the bar and don't let Finn have at them." Rookwood nodded and clicked the door shut behind him.

Draco checked his watch. "My parents said they'd arrive at around 11:15 to handle the food delivery from the Cauldron; therefore, we have precisely forty-five minutes to formulate a plan to fix this issue and get our intended back here where she belongs. Zippy! Please bring more coffee and doughnuts," he said, when the elf appeared. He stood up and looked around the room. "_Accio_," he said, and Corban's pile of clothes, which were in disarray because Hermione had surreptitiously kicked them over before she left, landed softly on the table and his boots slid across the floor and parked next to his chair. When Zippy got back, Draco immediately handed Corban a doughnut and a full cup of coffee and then sent the elf back off to launder the pile of clothes, while Draco summoned a dark grey suit, a dark green button-up shirt and a pair of dragon-hide loafers from his closet, all of which he moved toward the couch. He then poured himself a cup of coffee and stirred sugar into it.

"Right then," he said, once he'd taken a sip. "Get yourself together—one would think you'd forgotten everything you ever read in _Twelve Fail-Safe Ways to Charm Witches_."

"I memorized that when ye were in nappies _and_ the _Slytherin Kama Sutra_ as well—"

"Oh really? You must be out of practise, then—aren't there several reminders to not speak disparagingly about one's exes?"

"It doesn't say not to warn yer mates about potential hazards," Corban snapped.

"I think Gus can handle himself—Dahlia has clearly set her cap for my father and I didn't see you warning _him_—"

"As if _that_ would do any good," Corban said, frowning. "I never wanted to mention _any_ of my damned exes in the first place as all of that's ten years gone! Your mother is the one who brought them here last night and lined them all up in front of me like the bloody Wizengamot and I was given no chance to speak in me defence! And then the lass said that she wished she'd gotten together with that M—"he very visibly shivered and clamped his lips together and took a deep breath. "That. Fucking Muggleborn. That "_tall, dark and handsome one_"—dammit!" He slammed his fist on the table and the coffee in his cup threatened to spill over the side. He put his head back down in his hands. "I don't know what to do if this doesn't work out, mate. I can't go back ta Azkaban; I'll end up like Tosha."

"Nobody is sending you back there on my watch, if I have anything to do with it," Draco said. "I'm not allowing this program to be ruined by—whoever the fuck is trying to ruin it…and I can't think about that right now…stay on target…" He ran his hands through his hair.

"She fucking hates me now, I know it; she didn't even look at me when she left, and she called me "Mr Yaxley" in that Ministry wonk voice—I suspect she's going to hand that ring over to ya when she gets back and toss me out of the engagement compact like yesterday's rubbish," Corban said, his head still in his hands. "I can't blame her, either; I'm an old broken-down mostly reformed Death Eater with a prison record and too many nagging ex-consorts. Who the _fuck_ would want someone like me, anyway? "He groaned, and Draco observed that his shoulders shook, just a bit.

"Oh _Merlin_," Draco said. "You've fallen in love with her, haven't you?"

Corban grunted and muttered, "Tried ta bloody tell her last night but pretty sure she thought I was just flirtin' with her,"

"Bloody hell," Draco muttered. "You're going to have to take drastic action; just dancing with her isn't going to fix this. We _are_ talking about the same witch who abandoned Dolores Umbridge to the tender mercies of the centaurs in the Forbidden Forest—of course, _you_ haven't been systematically torturing her for a year, you just said one _fucking_ brainless thing…"

"I realize that I wasn't thinking! I thought she'd gone to the bloody loo, she was so quiet. What if she doesn't come back? It's not as if she's required to—that's not an Unbreakable Vow."

Draco sighed. "Don't remind me," and then took another sip of his coffee.

"Did she really send the Frog Princess off to the Forest?" Corban asked, after he'd finished another doughnut. "That explains a lot."

Draco attempted to stifle a chuckle. "That's a pretty appropriate nickname," he finally said.

"And she wasn't even trying to get hold of _yer_ wand at every available opportunity," Corban remarked.

"Sweet Salazar," Draco said, as a horrified look crept over his features. "What's the story there?"

"She went after both Pius and me; he was polite and I tried to pretend it wasn't happening; she mentioned the Revels more times than Tosha just did, but—"

"There was no way father would have _ever_ invited her, I assure you—"

"I considered doing the Imperius on her but I never wanted to get that close. She knew I was with Mafalda; she was always trying to have one over on her. _And_ she said she was related to Selwyn, but he told me that was bullshite." He rolled his eyes. "I bloody well hated her; I've never felt the same about cats after being round her."

"Back to our intended," Draco said, clearing his throat.

"Aye, right," Corban agreed, and cracked his neck, and then stood up and unbelted the borrowed robe. "I'm not tryin' to act like Tosha here; could you do a Cleaning Charm on me—because we did have a rather delightful fuck after that shower." He dropped the robe. "And, er—"he pulled the hair tie out. "Could ye braid me hair up?"

"Don't you do that every day without magic?" Draco asked, as he flicked his wand over the other wizard.

"Yes, but it takes a long while—"he turned and Draco flicked his wand at his hair. "Er—I need me cologne—is the elf comin' back soon?"

Draco flicked his wand twice in the direction of the door and said, "Accio Corban's cologne." After about a minute, a small bottle flew through the open door and landed on the table; Draco flicked his wand to close and lock both doors. "Anything else?" he asked.

"Do ye think the elf could bring a bouquet of flowers—and maybe some chocolate, I know she likes sweets—"he said, as he dabbed on the cologne.

"She really likes them," Draco said, standing up and Summoning his clothes, then flicking his wand over himself twice; his hair obligingly flew into place. "Her parents are Muggle tooth healers; they gave her sugarless treats as a child; I heard her talking in Honeydukes once, and she always had Sugar Quills."

"Mmm, would love to see her suck on one of those …," Corban said, and then paused and cleared his throat. "So—er, that's what those letters near their names meant in that book of Muggle numbers."

"Book of Muggle numbers?" Draco said, looking rather confused. "Something Tosha found—we used it to locate that house—"

"Well, I wouldn't bring all _that_ up if you want her to forgive you, Yax—"

"Too right," he grunted, as the elf reappeared and handed him his clean clothes. He donned them then sat down to pull on his boots.

"Let's see—"Draco mused. "She already has a pearl necklace and matching earrings, which she was wearing last night—and of course the rings…"

"How about a bracelet?" Corban asked.

Draco nodded. "I wish I knew what she was wearing today—Celeste at T&T said she'd bought some other pearl accessories—if she had just stayed here…"

"Please, brother," Corban said, as he straightened his waistcoat and ran his watch chain across the front, "Don't keep reminding me how much I fucked up-"

"If you say something idiotic to her again in my presence I will cover your arse in boils and leave the curse on for a week," Draco remarked, as he adjusted his shirt collar. "I think I might have a platinum bracelet here with me. You can give it to her—"

"And I'll owe ya, of course—when I can get in me vault—well, when the lass can, I'll have her pay ya back—"

"Glad to hear some confidence," Draco said, as he took another sip of coffee. Zippy reappeared with a bouquet of red and yellow roses and a large box of Honeydukes chocolate. Corban nodded and smiled politely. "I think she's on to something with that elf business; not the liberation part, of course, but they do help a lot—"

"You really _are_ in love, you pillock," Draco said, chuckling.

"Shut it, lad, ye'll ruin me reputation—"he paused. "Need to go stow me cologne away and grab some more records for Finn—should we send her an owl or try to fire-call her?"

"Owl, I think—hurry up…"

While Corban stepped away, Draco sorted through the accumulated owl post—there was a Millamant's invoice, which he filed, some advertisement circulars, which he incinerated, and some various correspondence to the other parolees, which he put aside to deal with later. Then there were Howlers and suspiciously large envelopes addressed to all three of them, then some to Corban—a couple of those smelled like perfume, and although Draco considered that they might be congratulatory, he didn't wish to fan any remaining flames on accident—and lastly some to the "Death Eater Trollop." A good number of them had shown up in the past few days. Draco wondered how many Hermione had received at her flat, and recalled that she'd said that both her Floo and owl post were restricted, so clearly the anonymous letter-writers had taken the soft option where their vitriol was concerned. He hit the entire stack with a localized Incendio, pulled out parchment and a quill for Corban, and retrieved Hannibal from his perch and handed him an Owl Treat.

"All right, brother—"Draco said, when Corban returned. "We now have twenty minutes; I'd really like it if she could get here before my parents arrive. I'll be reading that before I send it out, and write fast—"

_My Dearest Intended,_

_Please forgive my grievous error in judgment; I shall not refer to such crude matters again in your presence. _

_If it is not inconvenient, please fire-call at the Serpent in fifteen minutes; I await the graciousness of your favour._

"Good—"Draco said.

"Should I say that I love her, or just something like 'my heart is yours'?" Corban asked. "

Blimey, Yax—how did you ever run that department? We're cutting it _very_ fine here-just seal the deal and get _on_ with it!" Draco shouted, as he slapped Corban's shoulder.

_I love you,  
Corban _

"Now give me that—"Draco said, as Corban scattered sand on the parchment and then rolled it up; Draco grabbed the letter and handed it to the owl. "Take this to Hermione Granger in Charing Cross, and _please_ hurry—"

Seventeen minutes later, Draco and Corban were in the kitchen pacing; the box from Soho Doughnuts, a goblet of punch, and the gifts for Hermione sat on a chair. Draco had blocked off the back Apparition portico and stationed Rookwood at the front door, and hoped that his parents wouldn't arrive early, or might possibly just go straight to his room when they noticed the diversion.

"How long has it been?" Corban said, morosely staring at the fireplace.

"Two minutes later than the last time you asked me, and you have your watch back now—"

"I forgot—"he said.

"For Merlin's sake. You've got to be confident when she gets here—"

"_If_ she gets here," Corban said, mournfully.

"Sweet Salazar," Draco moaned. "You sound like a funeral director! If you're acting this absurdly over a disagreement I shudder to think how you'll act at our wedding!"

"If there is one," Corban said.

"Shut it, plonker!" Draco said—at the same time, the Floo chime rung. Draco motioned to Corban. "Stand back there and let me do the talking first."

Corban grabbed the bouquet, chocolates and jewelry pouch and stationed himself behind Draco.

Hermione's head appeared in the flames. "Draco, sorry I'm a couple of minutes late—I was on the phone with my parents—they got that stupid _Prophet_ special edition and called me, even though I'd already left a message about it, I have no idea how it got there so quickly—"she said, as she stepped through. She was wearing yet another Twilfitt and Tattings outfit, this time featuring a Fair Isle long-line cardigan, a lacy blouse, wool trousers, and the pearls and pendant Draco had given her as accessories.

Draco took her hand and kissed her palm. "What did they say? I _do_ hope they approve of me," and he winked at her.

"Oh, they remember me talking about you and they were a _bit_ surprised, but they did send their best wishes. Mostly, though, my father wanted to know who that 'scoundrel with the black eye' was, and I told him I'd explain later." She glanced around and spotted Corban, who had an inscrutable look on his face.

Draco stepped back and gestured in his direction. "Harmony, that scoundrel is in love with you; will you please do us all a favour and forgive his extreme stupidity?"

Corban moved in front of Draco and knelt in front of Hermione. "My intended," he said. "Again, I beg yer forgiveness for my boorish behaviour."

"I—I forgive you, I was really overwhelmed, I took your remark personally even though it wasn't about me," Hermione said.

"_Oh, thank Merlin_," Draco breathed.

"Please accept these tokens of my deep regard for ya," Corban said, extending the gifts in her direction.

"Oh…that's really not necessary—"she began.

"Yes, it is, Granger," Draco said. "I'll give you a few minutes—"he opened the back door. "If the Floo chimes, don't answer it—I'll hold my parents off if they get here—"and then he waved his wand at the hallway to block it off temporarily, walked outside, and closed the door behind him.

Meanwhile, Hermione was admiring the flowers and smiling at the chocolate. "Will you share this with me?" she asked.

"I will, and I will share all that I have with ya," Corban said, gently taking the items from her and sitting them on the chair. "May I kiss ya, sweetheart?"


	24. Chapter 24

PREFACE: This fic is primarily meant to be light-hearted but there is some serious subject matter in this chapter, so I'd classify this chapter as Drama/Action. Be warned!

_**Chapter 24 – **__**You can total up the balance sheet**_

It was very quiet in the kitchen area, other than Corban's satisfied sighs, and an odd noise that distracted Hermione and made it difficult for her to lose herself in the moment. A couple of minutes later, she gently pulled away from him. "You're kissing me as if you'll never see me again," she said.

"Thought I might not, me lass," he said, frowning a bit. "Is there something wrong?"

"It's just that I keep hearing an annoying ticking noise—is that your pocketwatch? I suppose you get used to it after a while…"

He pulled out his watch. "I've never noticed it being particularly loud—

"She listened for a moment. "That's not it—do you hear that? "

"What am I listening for?" he said.

"Something that sounds like a clock or a timer—is there an oven or stove in here?"she asked, although she didn't recall seeing one when they'd shrunk the table and chairs and covered the cabinets.

"I hear it now as well," Corban said. "We go out to eat quite a bit; otherwise, Draco has food delivered from the Manor, except for my doughnuts, of course—"he gestured toward the box. "If necessary, he heats up the meals with magic-nothing gets cooked here."

"I suppose you don't have a microwave?"she said, turning and looking around the relatively empty room.

"A _what_?" he asked.

She approached the chair which held the box of doughnuts and a punch goblet and then her eyes widened and she got closer to the box.

"Corban— have you—er—have you had any of these yet —"she said, approaching the chair gingerly.

He stepped up next to her. "No, I'm still full from breakfast, do you want—"he reached toward the box.

"Don't touch that!" Hermione hissed, then waved her wand at the top of the box and intoned _Evanesco_. The box top vanished, revealing a selection of doughnuts with a small grayish lump in the middle of them with a ticking timer attached, which read "5:00:57."

"What is _that_?" asked Corban.

"That is a—er, well, a Muggle Reductor Curse that is set to happen at—she glanced at her watch—4:30 today."

Corban's eyes widened and he immediately strode to the back door and flung it open. Draco appeared, and said, "_Please_ tell me that she didn't run off again—"but stopped at the look that Corban gave him. "There's a cursed Muggle artifact in here—"he said, quietly.

Meanwhile, Hermione created a double-strength Shield Charm around the doughnut box and gingerly levitated it off the chair. "What should we do with it? Should we Vanish it?" Draco asked.

"It'll need to be analysed," Corban said.

"But for now, we should get it somewhere very far away; it's set to blow up at 4:30—"Hermione said.

"I'll send it to the fields outside the Manor and have Galdy wait there starting at 4:15 to make sure nobody accidentally stumbles across it—" Draco said, and Hermione frowned. "He'll watch from _very_ far away, of course," he added.

"I suppose this definitely proves someone is trying to fuck with my programme," Draco said, angrily, after the box had vanished and the elf had received his instructions.

"We should go to the doughnut shoppe," Corban said. "It's not far from here—Hermione, would ya accompany me?"

"Before you go—did you call Potter?" Draco asked.

"Oh, damn," Hermione said. "I knew I forgot something—"

"I'll call him, and I'll make sure my parents come in the front door—you go—"and he walked over to the fireplace.

Corban escorted Hermione out the back door and through the alleyway to the sidewalk. "The shoppe is one of the first places I visited after I was released to the parole programme," he explained. "I hadn't had sweets in some time—the Pretender barely ate and he didn't give a fuck if any of the rest of us did, either—much less have sweets, and of course, pudding was hardly on the menu in Azkaban." He steered her down the sidewalk toward the intersection. "Draco took me out for a walk; the idea was to 'acclimate me to the Muggle world,' and I bloody well hated it, I just wanted to go to Diagon—"he paused at the crosswalk. "Watch yourself," he said. "Muggles drive like savages—"

"Worse than the Knight Bus?" Hermione asked.

"Exactly like that—I've nearly been run down out here. Anyway, the shoppe is on the next street over—when we walked by and I saw it I asked to stop. Draco bought me a chocolate doughnut and said I embarrassed him; asked if I needed time to meself with it," and he chuckled. "So he placed a regular delivery order for them, but I still come here a couple of times a week for coffee."

It was a rather blustery day; the clouds overhead threatened rain, and an insistent chill breeze pushed bits of detritus down the sidewalk past them as they walked. Corban pulled Hermione close; she discreetly flicked her wand inside her cardigan sleeve and did a Warming Charm.

The doughnut shop was warm and inviting; the smells of coffee and baking pastries filled the air, and Corban audibly sighed, sounding much like he had in bed that morning. "I see what Draco meant," she said, quietly.

The counter person smiled and said, "Oh, hello, Mr Yaxley, didn't you get your delivery today?"

"We did; who delivered it? "he asked, in a deceptively casual tone, reaching in his waistcoat pocket and withdrawing a black Amex card. Hermione did her level best to act as if this was a regular occurrence. "Was there something wrong with it, sir?"

"No—we have an event today and need more, and whoever took delivery forgot to ask—"The counter person turned to the back and shouted, "Reg!"

A young man with blue spiked hair and headphones slung around his neck sloped to the front and said, once he'd glimpsed Corban, "Oi, didn't Mr Travers give ya yer doughnuts?"

"Aye, but he forgot to ask ya, we need another two dozen—"Hermione reached in her purse and pulled out a ten-pound note and handed it to Reg, who looked at her and smiled; his pupils blown wide.

Meanwhile, the counter person boxed up two dozen more doughnuts and Corban awkwardly handed over his card and signed the receipt, and in return was handed a bag with his purchases. Once they'd returned to the sidewalk, Hermione said, "Either Reg was stoned or he was Imperiused—hard to tell—"

"Stoned?" Corban asked.

"Er—drugged—dosed with _cannabis sativa_, Muggles smoke it," she explained.

"So do wizards," Corban replied. "I don't think Travers expected us to speak with that boy, and he can't do Imperius as far as I know, _unless_ he can do it wandless, or he has an unregistered wand—either way, there are definitely other conspirators."

Before they turned onto the street where the Serpent was, Corban stopped and muttered, "Do a Notice-Me-Not on us." They continued on past the club and Rookwood, who was still on duty out front, didn't turn his head. When they walked in the back door, Hermione ended the spell, and Draco and Harry startled a bit. Hermione conjured a table and two more chairs and Corban sat one of the doughnut boxes on the table, and then said, "Send this up to Draco's room, sweetheart," to Hermione, handing her the bag containing the other box.

"Already sent your flowers and candy up there, Harmony—"Draco said, smiling at her. Harry didn't look pleased at her comfort level with the two Death Eaters, but to his credit, he didn't say anything.

"Travers took the delivery," Corban said, directly to Harry.

"I got a memo from Dawlish before I came through the Floo—Travers and Rookwood are getting their restricted wands today," Harry said. "Madam Hopkirk is bringing them directly to the club; she's supposed to meet with me when she gets here."

Corban sighed audibly, held his hand up and started ticking off on his fingers, "So…Dawlish, Travers…and, damn it all, Gus and Mafalda. And possibly Davies and Campbell."

"Rookwood told me when I posted him out front that he _and_ Travers were planning to offer for Madam Hopkirk today at brunch—"Draco said, as he tapped his fingers on the table.

"Aye, he said _we'd _be happy…" Corban mused.

"And when everyone was leaving breakfast, Travers said…"_it'll all be over soon_…" Hermione said, moving her hand to cover her mouth.

"I suspect they figured nobody would notice because the club will be packed, and my doughnuts are here every day. They set the Muggle Reducto to happen after the engagements, so those three will make sure they're first on line, and then quietly leave—"Corban said.

"And after they leave, they're hoping to take out, or at the very least seriously disrupt a club full of happy witches and wizards, all eligible for the Marriage Law and freshly engaged—"Harry said.

"There was enough explosive to level the club and probably several other buildings on the block, Harry," Hermione said.

"So, in addition to causing enough havoc to involve the Muggles and the Statute of Secrecy, my parole programme would literally blow up in my face…along with me, all the parolees, a bunch of innocent partygoers, AND the Golden Trio and their various amours," Draco said, with a scowl.

"What a bloody clusterfuck," growled Corban.

"Too bloody right, mate," Harry said, standing up and holding his wand to his throat. "Kingsley—I need you to come to the Silver Serpent immediately—come through the Floo—"

"Silver Serpent Soho!" shouted Draco.

"What Malfoy said—"and he flicked his wand and the shining stag burst into existence and galloped out through the back door.

"Malfoy, can I use your room to brief Kingsley?" Harry asked. "The important thing now is for everyone to act normal and go on with the show now that the immediate danger is out of the way. We can Apparate to your room, correct?"

"Yes, Potter—I'll take you when the Minister gets here—"he said.

Harry turned to Corban. "Would you keep an eye on Travers and Rookwood and let me know what's going on with them, just in case they have a Plan B?"

Corban nodded and grunted assent, and then asked, "Where do they think the doughnuts are now?"

"Still under the bar, I imagine—"Draco said. "Theo gave them to me, I'm pretty sure nobody else saw-and I doubt he's mixed up in this—"

Corban picked up the decoy doughnuts and said, "But ya can't be sure. We need to get these back there without having anyone see if possible—"

Draco nodded. "You're going to have to do it—"and tapped the box to Disillusion it.

"Should I help with anything?" Hermione asked, to the room in general.

"Er…" Harry said.

"My love, I'd suggest you put this room back exactly the way it was, open that barrier so I can go find those tossers—"and Corban gestured toward the hallway, "Then head back to your flat through the Floo and show back up at 1:30, because Rookwood heard ya say that. But wait till Draco, the Minister and Potter head upstairs."

Harry looked as if his thunder had been stolen, but he merely nodded and said, "What Yaxley said." Then the Floo chime rung.

By 1:30, when Hermione came back through the Floo, Ron, Pansy, Draco and two MLE officers were waiting in the kitchen, presumably to greet arriving guests. Draco stood up and helped her to exit the fireplace and then kissed her hand while Ron pointedly looked in the other direction, but he did say "Hey, Mione," politely when she waved at him.

"Hello, all," she said.

"Hello, Granger—you look smashing today—perfect outfit," Pansy said, coming over and giving her an a-frame hug and air kisses. One of the MLE officers stood up so that she could sit down, and Ron levitated a goblet of punch toward her, which she gratefully drank.

"It's just about show time," Draco said, and Hermione was impressed that he seemed rather unruffled. "My parents and their, er, dates and the Potters are up front. We're going to get people in as fast as possible and get them seated—Mrs Longbottom's got the food ready to go and the elves are staged. The jewelry people and the Ministry Registry person are here—I've got them sitting next to cloak check with the Selwyns. Finnegan and Thomas are doing the music and at 3, Finn will take over and play all the romantic tunes—and the engagements will hopefully begin."

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AUTHOR'S NOTES

Many thanks as always to all my loyal reviewers—I hope you're enjoying things. There are three chapters left to go (there may be an epilogue to wrap things up if necessary).

As a reminder, Travers is being played by Benedict Cumberbatch. (Thank you again, PurpleCaboose).

Yes, I borrowed a minor plot point from Potter Puppet Pals (if you haven't seen The Mysterious Ticking Noise by now, you should). And Corban was a cop, so the doughnut plot was somewhat inevitable.


	25. Chapter 25

_**Chapter 25 – **__**And never know if I'm a counterfeit**_

Forty-five minutes later, most of the guests had arrived, and two MLE officers were stationed at each door, along with Serpent security personnel, to usher in late arrivals. The brunch was in full swing—the Faux Amortentia punch was being served alongside a second fountain containing mimosas. A large Wiggentree had been placed between both fountains, several Flutterby bushes surrounded the DJ station, and there were floral sprays on each table (all courtesy of Neville Longbottom—who was currently accompanying his wife, Hannah, as she monitored the food tables). Walden, Lucinda and Theo were stationed behind the bar, which was doing a brisk business in coffee, tea, butterbeer and gillywater in addition to the various alcoholic libations. Seamus and Dean were playing a rotating selection of upbeat jazz and rock numbers, as Rowle flipped through a pile of records in preparation for the proposal announcements with Lee Jordan by his side, providing input on the choices. A few couples were dancing, but most were in the food line or at the tables. Elves were circulating with punch goblets and hors d'oeuvres. Mr and Mrs Selwyn were manning the cloak check, and an MLE officer kept watch over the several couples perusing the jewelry selection on the table next to them. Some had moved on to pick up parchment from the bored-looking Ministry engagement registry official. Most of the older guests were wearing expensive-looking wizarding casual clothes like Hermione, but many of the younger guests were in Muggle clothes of varying types.

Four tables had been pushed together and enlarged near the edge of the marquee, and the Patil twins, Ron and Pansy, Harry and Ginny, George and Angelina, Justin Finch-Fletchley and Dahlia Parkinson, Ernie MacMillan and Susan Bones, and Draco and Hermione all sat together enjoying food and drink and telling the occasional anecdote or joke. Although he was nominally participating in the festivities, Hermione noticed that Draco was mostly glancing nervously around the room, and from time to time, he'd grab her hand and squeeze it.

After he finished a goblet of punch, he pulled her close and whispered in her ear, "_Look over there by the cloak check—…don't turn your head, just—here, let me turn you_—" He put his arms around her and nuzzled her neck.

"_How am I supposed to pay attention when you're doing that?_" she asked.

"_Embrace your inner Slytherin_," he murmured.

"_I'm embracing my __**outer**__ one—_"she began, and then focused on where he was pointing her. Madam Hopkirk had arrived, and Corban was helping her off with her cloak, smiling pleasantly and chattering away with her. As the table was not far, she was able to overhear their conversation.

"Oh, Corry," Hopkirk said, with a little giggle, "Thank you—I have missed you, you know…"

"_Corry_?!" Hermione hissed to Draco. "_For fuck's sake…eeeewww_!" She started to wrench her way out of Draco's arms, but he held tight and frantically whispered, "_Not quite yet…give it a minute, and let others see what's going on_…"

"I've missed ya, too, sweetheart," Corban replied to Mafalda, as he kissed her palm.

Hermione growled a bit at this.

"_He's trying to make this realistic_," Draco whispered. "_Just ignore it_—"

Meanwhile, Corban continued schmoozing, "Would ya like to look at the pretty jewelry, or perhaps ya'd like to have a dance?" He took her by the arm and led her to the jewelry selection.

Hermione whispered "Come on—let me go now!"

By now, Pansy and Ron, who were sitting across from them, had started to notice that something was amiss, and Pansy spoke up. "Draco, what on _earth_ is going on with Mr Yaxley? He hasn't come over here to sit with us and now he's cozying up to that Ministry witch—the one who gave my father that horrid wand and that annoying booklet—"Draco sighed and rolled his eyes.

Ron said, "Mione, isn't she the one you—er…_you know_, at the Ministry that time? What's going on?"

"They used to _date_," Hermione spat. "And I'll give _her_ a horrid wand," she added, as she repeated her attempt to extricate from Draco's arms. He, however, was quite strong, owing to his (covert) devotion to Muggle exercises.

"She dated _Yaxley_?" Ron blurted. "Did he say anything to you when you—you know—were there? Wasn't that a bit awkward?"

"I'll give him _awkward_," Hermione growled. "Let me GO, Draco!"

"You'd better let her go, mate," Ron said, to Draco. "She can be a bit scary."

"She can't _possibly_ be any scarier than my aunt," Draco said, and by that point, Harry and Ginny had started paying attention. Draco gave Harry a very slight nod.

"Stop talking about me like I'm not here!" Hermione said, and she wrenched herself from his grasp, stood up, whipped her wand into her hand and marched quickly in the direction of Corban and Hopkirk, who had just stepped onto the dance floor after Seamus cued up "Black Magic Woman" by Santana (although he noted for the traditionalists in the crowd that the record label credited it to "El Mago Maravilloso.") Draco, Ron and Pansy got up and followed quickly behind her.

"Pardon me, but you're going to have to wait for your dance with '_Corry'_ for just a minute—" Hermione said, loudly, to Mafalda, whilst scowling. "I'm cutting in," Hermione said, pointing her wand at the dance floor and causing a small explosion and a puff of green smoke between them. Hopkirk immediately jumped back. The other dancers, thinking this was some sort of planned effect, laughed and applauded and kept dancing.

"Er—Hermione, sweetheart—I can explain…" Corban said.

"You can stuff your explanation; this isn't Wimbledon and I didn't sign up for a bloody _foursome_!" she said, as she wrenched the ring off her right hand and handed it to him. "Here, you don't need to shop for any "pretty jewelry" for her now, you tomcat; I hope you're happy!" She backed up and used her wand to shove Hopkirk toward Corban, then marched back to the tables, grabbed the hand of the exceedingly confused Justin Finch-Fletchley, pulled him out to the dance floor, and started leading him in a very up-close and personal tango. As she steered him around, she observed Corban put the ring in his pocket, smile sheepishly at Hopkirk, and extend his hand to her. Hopkirk blushed prettily and took his hand, and he began to twirl her around in what looked a little like the lambada. Loud whispering, murmurs, and pointing began among those who weren't dancing.

Meanwhile, there appeared to be a commotion by the cloak check, and Hermione steered Justin around and saw Rookwood and Travers heading angrily toward the dance floor. The music was heating up, and Ron and Pansy, George and Angelina, and Dahlia and Mr Malfoy had all come up to dance as well. Draco, meanwhile, had slowly migrated toward the DJ station.

As the cascading drums escalated, Travers marched directly over to Corban, grabbed him by his shirt collar, pulled him away from Hopkirk, and said, loudly, "Hands off, blood traitor, you've made your choice!"

At that moment, the music stopped, and there was a slight bit of feedback as Seamus gasped directly into the microphone. The witches and wizards on the dance floor slowly backed up and formed a rough semicircle around Travers, Rookwood, Hopkirk and Corban.

"Tobias, don't say such things! You're supposed to be reformed!" Hopkirk shouted.

"Sod off, Travers, we were just dancing," Corban said, grabbing Travers' arm and wrenching it off his collar.

"Go to hell, Yaxley," Travers spat. "You dumped her for Dolores all those years ago—how dare you break her heart again!" He shoved Corban away with the flat of his hand; Corban balled his fists and began pacing toward Travers, but Rookwood put an arm out to stop him.

"She's ours, Yax, you can't have _all_ the witches wrapped around your wand," Rookwood said, then put his other arm around Hopkirk.

"Fuck off back to your Mudblood!" Travers yelled.

Hopkirk wrenched herself out of Rookwood's grasp and slapped Travers in the face. "_You_ fuck off, you lying bigoted bastard!" she screamed.

"You can _all_ go to hell then—"Travers said, and turned on his heel and started to walk off the dance floor. "I'm done with the lot of you dirty-blooded Muggle lovers, enjoy the rest of your pathetic _party_, while you still can-" and he reached in his pocket, pulled out a wand and turned toward the bar.

With a loud growl, Corban launched himself toward Travers, tackled him to the floor, held him down by the throat, grabbed the wand out of his hand and tossed it aside, punched him in the face, then yelled, "_That's_ for insulting me intended and ruinin' me doughnuts, ya fuckin' piece o' thestral shite!"

At the same time, Harry Potter and Kingsley Shacklebolt Apparated directly in front of the DJ station, flanked by three of the MLE officers; all pointed their wands at Travers. One of them put his foot down and stopped the errant wand from rolling off the dance floor. Harry did an Incarcerous on Travers, and then Hermione and Draco ran up and assisted Corban off the floor. "Tobias Travers," Kingsley intoned, "You are under arrest for violating the terms of your Ministry-mandated parole agreement and for conspiracy to commit murder." The crowd gasped, and then applauded as the group Disapparated.

"All right, ladies and gentlemen…witches and wizards," Seamus said. "I'm not sure how to follow up that fine performance from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement…" and the crowd laughed and applauded again. "Pretty soon Dean and I will hand the mic over to Thorfinn for the engagement announcements, but before then, let's travel off to "Boogie Wonderland" with Earth, Wind and Fire!" There was more applause, and then all the couples who'd been dancing started up again; Justin waved and smiled at Hermione and headed off, presumably to find Mrs Malfoy.

Hermione, Draco and Corban looked at each other. Corban reached in his pocket and brought out the engagement ring and said, "Sweetheart, ya didn't have to make it _that_ realistic—"then put the ring back on her right ring finger.

"You told me to cause a scene…._Corry_," Hermione said, smiling at him, and he pulled her close and kissed her, then murmured, "I bloody hate that nickname," he said. "Remind me to always keep ya happy so ye'll never use it again."

"Oh—I intend to," Draco said, and pulled both of them in for a hug.

"Er," Corban began. "On that note—I really do need to clear something up, though—"and he pulled away and then motioned at Rookwood and Hopkirk, who were standing together just off the dance floor, looking rather dazed. Hermione surreptitiously pointed her wand at them and whispered, "Finite," surmising that they might have been either Confunded or Imperiused—or both. The couple approached Corban.

"Look, er, Mafalda," Corban said, "I'm sorry that I had to involve you in all that business with Travers just now. But most importantly, I need ya to know that I never had a _damn_ thing ta do with the Frog Princess, no matter what she told ya."

"Oh, Corry—thank you. I'm not sure what I would have done if we'd gotten married and I'd found all that out later—"

"You still have me, Mafalda," Rookwood said. "If you'll have me."

"Of course, Gus," she said, turning to him. "And I always knew in my heart that she was lying." Corban bowed to her, took her hand and kissed the air above her knuckles. "I wish good fortune and happiness to ya both." They turned and started to head to the dance floor, but Hopkirk turned at the last moment and said, "I'll see what I can do to speed up your restricted wand application," and she smiled and gave him a little wave.

"All right, party people," said Rowle, coming to the microphone. "I'll need you to clear off the dance floor for a minute. We have a special treat for you. To do the engagement announcements—" and he waved a piece of parchment—"some of which our fine Ministry official has just handed me, the Silver Serpent is proud to present…straight out of Hogwarts, the renowned Quidditch announcer—everyone give it up for Mr Lee Jordan!" There was a round of applause. Lee took the microphone. "Thank you! It's nice to not have to announce that Slytherin has made a bunch of open and revolting fouls-"and the crowd laughed. "Instead, I'm going to start out by saying that it looks like Slytherins are some of the most romantic witches and wizards out there, because we seem to have a lot of them lining up to get married. When I call your name, please come up to the dance floor—we'll be playing some music for you to enjoy. If your name isn't called, please feel free to join in, though. And if you all would wait to applaud until I get done with the first group-let's start out with the wizard that made all this possible—Draco Malfoy and his intended, Hermione Granger, and their beloved third, who, I have reliably been informed, just helped save this party from disaster, Corban Yaxley! Next, Theo Nott and his intended, Tracey Davis. Next in line, our fabulous bartender Walden Macnair and his lovely bride-to-be, Lucinda Wilkes! And from the Ministry, Madam Mafalda Hopkirk and her intended, Augustus Rookwood! And—"he smiled—"Gryffindor represent with Seamus Finnegan and Parvati Patil, and Dean Thomas and Padma Patil!" As Padma stepped up on the arm of Dean, she said, "_Ravenclaw_ represent, if you please!" to general laughter. "And, the gentleman who was instrumental in buying us all food, and most importantly drinks, Mr Lucius Malfoy, his wife Madam Narcissa Malfoy, and their intendeds, Justin Finch-Fletchley and Dahlia Parkinson!"

As the Malfoys approached, Hermione noticed that Narcissa was holding the hand of a boy with black hair, and two witches, who were wearing Muggle sportswear, trailed behind. She nudged Draco and whispered, "Do you know what that's all about?"

Her question was answered quickly when the boy wrenched his hand from Mrs Malfoy's grip and ran directly to Mr Macnair, yelling "DAD!" at the top of his lungs.

Corban whispered, "That has to be Walden's son by his American wife—he vanished after the Pretender killed her—and I think one of those witches is his daughter by his first wife—she vanished, too—"

Nobody was quite sure what was going on but Lee gamely said, "I think—it's maybe a family reunion?"

Mr Malfoy waved at Lee and approached the microphone, "Yes—that's Walden's son Evan, his daughter Heather, and her wife Melissa—I was Walden's Secret-Keeper, I sent his children away to Australia to escape the Pretender—"

"Did you know anything about that?" Hermione said, to Draco.

"Not one clue," he said.

Meanwhile, the crowd was expressing their approval and applauding. "All right—all right—"Lee said. "I know I said not to applaud until the end but that was worth it….so, to finish up this group of engagements, we have a couple more Lions…one of the funniest wizards I know, George Weasley and his intended, Angelina Johnson! And lastly, a couple of shining examples of Inter-House Unity… Ron Weasley and his fiancée, Pansy Parkinson! And… Thorfinn Rowle, and myself!" He paused, and then said, "You can applaud now," with a wink. He sat the mic down, pulled Rowle onto the dance floor, and waved his wand to start the music, "Dream A Little Dream of Me."

.

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AUTHOR'S NOTES:

Thanks, PurpleCaboose! I'm updating quickly because I set myself a challenge to do so; my previous fics have been on a once-a-week schedule, and my next fic shall follow suit…meanwhile, there are two more chapters to go….

My DH says that messing with a man's doughnuts is an actionable offense.

Speaking of the next fic, here are a couple of the plunnies I'd been kicking around:

-delusional!Dolohov/healer!Hermione

-what really happened in that DE 're-education programme', and then a redeemed!DE romance (not sure who it would involve, though)

Suggestions welcome!


	26. Chapter 26

_**Chapter 26 – **__**You won't take my love for tender**__** (redux)**_

It took over two hours and a rather lengthy playlist to get through the balance of the two hundred and fifteen engagement announcements. Rowle had volunteered to read the last batch as Lee was nursing a sore throat and George was over at the bar making him a 'home remedy'. Even Corban was weary of dancing. Board and other games had been brought out again for those who were similarly exhausted; most of the tables, chairs and other accoutrements had been shrunk and stowed away in the Millamant's carton, and the elves bustled around, vanishing the mess and consolidating the leftovers for storage in the Serpent's kitchen. The jewelry sales table was cleared away, and the Ministry registry official was checking the towering stack of parchment for errors.

Harry, Ginny, Ron, Pansy, Hermione, Corban, Angelina, Dahlia Parkinson and Justin Finch-Fletchley were seated together at a loose confederation of tables and conversation groupings that had been left out of the packing. Corban had his boots off and his stocking feet up on a chair and sipped at an iced coffee. Ron, Hermione, Ginny and Harry were playing Exploding Snap while Angelina kibitzed. Dahlia and Justin were clearly waiting for the Malfoys, who were supervising the Manor elves. The Longbottoms had already departed (after hugging and congratulating Hermione); Neville had, at the polite request of Lee, left one Flutterby bush next to the DJ station.

"And….that's all of the announcements for today, I believe," Rowle said, after which he took a long drink of coffee. "We're going to end up this shindig the way we kicked it off yesterday—so those of you who are still up for dancing, take a turn to the Warbling Wizard performing "Love and Marriage!"

Corban said, to Hermione, "Sweetheart, I'd ask you to dance but I'd have to put my bloody boots back on—"

"That's all right—if I never hear anyone mention those dodgy records again it will be too soon—"

"Why do ya keep saying that?"

"Because they have the wrong names on, I keep trying to tell you—"

"Those are just nicknames; some of the, er, more traditionalist types prefer it that way," he explained, chuckling a bit.

"All those musicians are actually wizards and witches, then?"

"How do ya think they got so popular with the Muggles?" and he winked at her.

Draco, looking somewhat windswept, approached them and pulled both into a quick hug. "I just got back from the Manor. The Muggle Reducto went off," and he paused and said, directly to Hermione, "And Galdy is fine, he wasn't anywhere near it. Father isn't pleased about the acres of scorched earth but I think, given the alternative—"he frowned and looked up. "What's going on over there?

The MLE officers who were staffing the front door were scanning the crowd, clearly looking for someone in charge. Corban reached for his boots and slid them on, then stood up with a rather annoyed grunt and dashed over toward them. Hermione and Draco decided to follow. A couple, who were painstakingly dressed in well-worn yet expensive casual clothes and who looked exceedingly confused, were standing on the Apparition portico. Meanwhile, an older model Rolls-Royce limo, with a uniformed chauffeur next to it, was double-parked on the street outside the club. Corban had already exited the club and was speaking in low tones with the couple; as he turned and glimpsed Hermione appearing in the doorway, he asked, "Sweetheart—could you go find that chap you did the tango with earlier?

""Pardon?" Hermione said, coming closer.

"I'd like you to meet me fiancée, Hermione Dagworth-Granger, from Australia," Corban said, as he took her hand and squeezed it. "I'm pleased to introduce you to Mr and Mrs Finch-Fletchley," and they both shook her hand.

"Oh! Yes—Justin is just inside, I'll go find him—"

Meanwhile, Draco, having heard the entire conversation, headed back inside and reappeared with both Justin and Dahlia, as well as his parents. After many polite introductions, Justin, Dahlia, his parents, and the Malfoys were all escorted into the car, but not before Mr Finch-Fletchley harrumphed at Corban and muttered, "Jolly good, Yaxley, hope to see you at the hunt this fall."

"What just happened there?" Hermione asked, after the motorcar had driven off. "And why did you call me that?"

"Have a country house. Know a bit about dealing with those sorts of Muggles—"Corban said.

"But—"

"Just go with it, Harmony," Draco said. "One or all of us, _or_ our children, will have double-barreled names soon enough. I _am_ happy to see that Pansy and Dahlia will be getting their boutique—that should improve that section of Knockturn—I only hope my mother is discreet with her spellwork—"

"I almost wish I were a fly on the wall for that conversation," Hermione mused, as Corban escorted her back into the club. "Speaking of that sort of thing—did that _Prophet_ reporter leave yet?"

"Yes, thank Merlin," Draco said, as he steered his intendeds toward the bar. "Hello, Walden—could you get me a coffee and—"

"A mimosa," Hermione said, "Please,"

"Coffee with a shot of single-malt," Corban added.

"How are things, Mr Macnair?" Hermione asked, once she'd had a sip of her drink. "And congratulations, by the way—"

"Well, lass, we'll be leavin' for America within the week," and he took Lucinda's hand. "We're all going there at first, but Heather and Melissa are going to live at me lodge and I'm stayin' in Connecticut. Evan will stay in Scotland durin' the school year and then visit us over the summer—"He smiled.

"Er, how does that all work with the program here?" Hermione inquired.

Draco spoke up. "I'll explain later—"

"Can I have a word with ye, lass?" Macnair said, gesturing at Hermione and stepping out from behind the bar. They walked over to the same window where he'd proposed to her several days earlier. "This may sound odd but I wanted to thank ye for _not_ taking me up on me offer—"

"You're welcome—it did all work out for the best, I think—"

"I know ye and young Malfoy will be good together, and Yax is utterly smitten; he can be a plonker, doona take him too seriously. And I still think ye have a lovely arse," he said, winking at her and kissing her knuckles. "Let's head back over there—I've got to make sure young Nott doesna mess up me bar when I hand it over to him—"

Meanwhile, the dance music had ended and Rowle had put on some background jazz and was sorting through the records. Ron and Pansy had chosen to sway together to the quiet tunes. Seamus, Dean and the Patil twins had departed at some point over the previous hour—Ginny had conveyed their best wishes to Hermione.

Draco stepped over to the microphone and said, "Ladies and gentlemen, witches and wizards, today's official festivities are over—but, as we are, primarily, an after-hours establishment, we're not going to rush you out the door. Please feel free to continue enjoying drinks, snacks and games – we will be closing the doors in an hour or so. Thank you!"

There was a smattering of applause from the couple of dozen remaining guests, as Draco returned to the bar and Harry and Ginny approached. Ginny requested a mimosa, while Harry poured himself a coffee from the carafe. "We've got to get back to the kids shortly, but I did want one more drink—thank you, Malfoy, we've had an outstanding time—"Draco bowed to her and kissed her knuckles.

"Thank you for the dance last night, Mrs Potter," he said, smirking at her a bit. "And thanks, Potter, for getting the Minister here so quickly."

"Kings said they're shipping Travers back to Azkaban tonight, by the way," he said, quietly. "I've already done my inspection on everyone else here except for, er, Dolohov and Lestrange," and he paused. "And Yaxley, I need to have a word with you—"

"Why don't I walk with ya up to Tosha's—er, Dolohov's room, Mr Potter," Corban said. "Lestrange should still be up there with him—"

"Are you sure that's not him right there?" Ginny asked, as she turned toward the hallway entrance.

"Oh, _please_ tell me he's got a robe on," Hermione said, as she turned around. He was, unfortunately, just in a towel, and Draco, Harry, Corban and the two MLE officers nearly ran over each other in their haste to corral the Russian wizard—a stray Incarcerous hit Lestrange on accident as he appeared in the doorway saying, "Sorry! I fell asleep!"

"Not _again_!" Hermione blurted.

"_What_ is going on there—or should I not ask," Ginny spluttered to Hermione, after Dolohov blew her a kiss and shouted, "I'll see you in the trysting room, _vozlyublennaya_!"

"He—er, only his body has come back from Azkaban, I think—"Hermione said.

"Harry said him being here is a mystery; nobody in the department signed off on his parole—"

"I am not the least bit surprised," Hermione said, as she finished her drink.

"I should probably get a move on," Ginny said. "I have the feeling all that might take a while—"she added, as she hugged Hermione. They walked together over to the cloak check, where Rookwood and Hopkirk sat together, smiling, and then down the hallway to the back Apparition portico.

Three hours later, everything had been cleaned up and the club had been returned to its regular size and appearance; it was not opening for regular business that evening. All the Millamant's bric-a-brac was packed neatly back into the box and the leftover food was stored under Stasis Charms in the restored kitchen. Rookwood had happily accepted his restricted wand and Draco signed the authorization papers—he and Hopkirk had gone off on a stroll through Muggle London. Rowle and Lestrange were playing cards at the kitchen table and Selwyn sat next to them reading the _Prophet_. Corban had gone up to his room to soak in the tub after he'd seen Hermione off to her flat via the Floo. Draco had assisted Walden in packing up his belongings, and then Disapparated with him to his parents' castle to put him under their temporary custody, as Harry had authorized his immediate departure from the program, contingent on his departure to America within the week. Theo had gone home with Tracey for the night (also authorized by Harry). Meanwhile, Dolohov was theoretically in his room for the evening.

When Draco stepped back through the Floo, he grabbed a cup of tea and made a quick sandwich from the leftovers then sat at the table with the others. "Well—that's done, Walden will be on his way via Portkey in a week, his father tells me—"

"I'm _really_ going to miss him," Rowle said. "It won't be nearly as much fun around here without him growling at us all the time," he said, as he shuffled the cards.

"Cheer up, mate, we still have Yax; we'll have to figure out what his least favorite song is," Lestrange said.

"Something about having too many consorts, maybe?" Rowle replied.

"Or maybe not enough?" Lestrange said, with a smile.

"Er—" Draco began, after he sat down his sandwich.

"Alright, Malfoy—what's going on? Don't tell me he's leaving, too! Can I have the day shift in that case, and can you still get those doughnuts delivered?" He paused for a minute. "He can't be going to America or Australia," Lestrange said. "Unless you're planning to have a quick wedding and then just send her off with him and drop by on the occasional holiday to attempt to fulfill the Law requirements—"

"No—he, er, well, he had all those extra restrictions on his mobility, plus his parole term was five years instead of three like the rest of you lot—"Draco began.

"Yeah, they really had it in for him," Lestrange said, as he accepted the cards from Finn.

"Well, he just needs to serve out the rest of this year, and he is permitted to stay at his house during the week, if one of us—meaning Hermione or I—live there with him; and we're both going to move there. He's getting his restricted wand tomorrow, and he'll be back here on the weekends to help out, then at the end of the year he'll go on house arrest for the rest of his parole—so if you're volunteering to replace him, Roddy, I'm sure he'd be chuffed to show you how to use that floor polisher and scrub out the loos."

"Well, damn," Lestrange said. "If I'd have been down here instead of babysitting Tonin I would have bloody well been glad to beat up Travers. As it is, I guess I'll just stay here and wait for the sure-to-be-stimulating news of my Ministry-assigned sex partner." He sighed.

"About Travers—"Draco said. "He's back in Azkaban and Potter said it'd be a miracle if he got less than ten years—"

"You know," Selwyn said, "He never breathed a word to me about any of that—we went through that whole rehabilitation programme together and he just—went along with it. Clara said he was looking at her strangely when she was here, though."

"Maybe he wanted to make it a foursome with him and Gus," Lestrange said as he grimaced at his cards then sat his hand down. "I fold, Finn, this hand is shite—"

"Don't think she'd go for that," Selwyn said. "She's already applied for dispensation for us to remain married." He smiled. "Hopefully I'll be able to go home during the week and get on with, er, fulfilling our requirements—"

"Didn't she and Yax have a thing, you know, back at the Revels?" Lestrange asked, as he picked up the cards from Rowle and began shuffling them.

"You may not believe this, but it was actually all about dancing—I'm a rubbish dancer and she loves it—he only did the consort agreement with her to preserve her reputation because he spent so much time with her—"

"Oh, come _on_, Selwyn, this is Yax we're talking about—" Rowle said.

"I know what he's like—that's why I made him do an Unbreakable about it." Selwyn said, as he stood up and walked over to the cabinet and took out a tea mug.

"Damn, Dexter, uncharted depths, mate—"Selwyn smirked at him. "So—it seems the Yax Legend is all unfounded: he was just dancing with Clara, the thing with the Parkinson witch was foisted on him, he really did care about Hopkirk and he's apparently in love with Miss Granger—and then there's, er…"

"My mother, who apparently latched onto him when some of you lot were in Azkaban after that Ministry debacle, because if he wears his hair down and you squint a bit he looks like my father, and then she, well, sort of fell for him and things got weird and awkward—"Draco said, as he waved his wand at the tea pot to Summon it.

"Oh, and that's not creepy at _all_ considering your upcoming nuptials," Lestrange said, as he dealt a hand to Rowle and himself.

"Shut it, Roddy," Draco said, but he was chuckling. "He doesn't remind _me_ of my father, he's too rough around the edges and he doesn't smell like bloody brandy all the time—"

"Who doesn't smell like brandy?" Corban asked, as he padded into the kitchen, hair down and clad in a bathrobe and pajamas, headed for the leftovers and the tea. He was also carrying the Soho Doughnuts box that had been stashed upstairs earlier, which he sat on the table, opened, and then gestured to the other wizards. Rowle immediately grabbed two.

"Er—nobody," Draco said.

"That Muggleborn who's marrying Madam Malfoy," Lestrange said, quickly.

"Oh, _him_," Corban said, "Mr 'Tall Dark and Handsome', that complete git." He paused as he took out a tea mug and then selected sandwich makings. "Sod him."

"Well, your father is likely to, Malfoy," Lestrange said.

"You know, I could have gone all evening without having that mental image—""It's a good thing you were too young for the Revels, boy, you would have seen a lot more than that—""Are we having Revels now?" Dolohov said, as he walked into the kitchen wearing an open robe.

"NO!" said Draco and all the parolees, more or less in unison.  
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AUTHOR'S NOTES:

One more chapter to go!

PurpleCaboose—I do love that suggestion and will likely use it for a future fic, because I've gone ahead and started preliminary notes on the MindHealer!Hermione/Delusional!Dolohov story, which will also feature a few other DEs and more than one pairing.

Walden Macnair is being deported, an option made available to the parolees in their agreements.

Travers was not attempting to use his restricted wand via Madam Hopkirk; he had an unregistered wand which got smuggled into the club via one of the (slightly corrupt) MLE officers.


	27. Chapter 27

_**Chapter 27 – **__**Coda (times four**__**)**_

Hermione woke up feeling quite relaxed, in her very pleasant and comfortable bed, with just the right amount of light coming through the gap in the aubergine velvet curtains. Deciding that a bit of a lie-in might not be amiss, she summoned her electric kettle, tea, a mug and toast from the kitchen, flicked her wand to turn on BBC 3, and allowed herself to quietly greet the morning along with Miles Davis. It was a truly lovely feeling, she thought, and a very good way to bid farewell to her flat. Although it no longer reminded her of Ron's peccadilloes, it was hopelessly Muggle, and she knew that neither of her husbands-to-be would wish to spend time in it. Packing up wouldn't take long, thanks to magic—the most annoying task would be calling the estate agents and breaking the lease; she'd have to inform them that she was going abroad and wouldn't need any further correspondence—although Corban could communicate with posh country dwellers, he probably wasn't interested in having Muggle post delivered to his house—so she'd have to figure out a solution for her Muggle bank statements.

She slowly got up, stretched, went to the loo, washed her hands, snagged the _Prophet_ on the way back, and spent a good half-hour perusing it, especially the large section covering Sunday's brunch. Apparently there were only about fifty witches and wizards who'd be receiving Marriage-Law-mandated matches later that week, and that, in her mind, made the weekend a rousing success. There were several quotes from party attendees, all praising the food, music, decorations and just about everything else. It was all headlined by a lovely picture of the dance floor, and she was amused to see that the photographer had captured a pivotal moment. The caption underneath read, "_Miss Hermione Granger, newly-confirmed Ancient Runes Professor at Hogwarts, does the tango with Mr. Justin Finch-Fletchley of Gringotts at Sunday's AMU Marriage Law Celebration Brunch_." But the best part was the sidebar article topped by a picture of Harry and Kingsley, and then a smaller, recent picture of Corban, stating that he was being released from parole early and put into the Restricted Wand Program in return for his timely assistance in stopping Travers' plot. Although she still did not relish the idea of explaining the Law and how she was complying with it to her parents, at least he was no longer being depicted as a 'scoundrel with a black eye'.

After she took a long, hot shower, threw on jeans and a jumper, tied her hair back, and brushed her teeth, she called the estate agents and left a message, then went to the lounge and began shrinking books and decorative items to the raucous sounds of BBC 6. After a fairly rushed conversation last night once Corban had been informed of his improved options, they'd decided to figure out room logistics after they arrived at his house later today. He'd not grown up there; he'd been raised somewhere in Scotland by his mother, and that house had been confiscated by the Ministry for reparations. The last he'd heard, it had been rendered Re-Plottable and sold to Muggles; he'd made it clear that it wasn't a subject for further discussion. As for the Suffolk house (which had been inherited from his father's side of the family and was named accordingly), where they'd be living, Clara Selwyn had been stopping by on a monthly basis to check on the elves and a Squib caretaker had been hired for regular maintenance, so at the very least it would be nominally clean and stocked with basic provisions. She wasn't sure how she felt about the idea of country life (although magic, of course, made all things convenient)-being able to access the fast-paced city life, whilst still having a personal oasis, was how she'd lived for as long as she could remember.

As she sat down her wand and glanced around to decide what to shrink next, Draco's glimmering ferret scampered in and perched atop a pile of Muggle gossip magazines, which she'd forgot to toss out. _"I hope you're awake and decent, Harmony!"_

How he managed to create a smirking Patronus, she'd not yet sussed; she sent back her otter saying, "_I'm __always__ decent, you pillock_!" A couple of minutes later, the Floo chime rang and Draco, wearing a black leather blazer, green v-neck cardigan, and black trousers, stepped through, just as a new song began on the radio.

She ran her wand over him to clean off stray ashes and smiled as he kissed her hand…and then was startled as Corban stepped through behind him. He was dressed almost exactly like he'd been that day she, Harry and Ron had infiltrated the Ministry, and he flicked his wand casually to clean the ashes off his robes…she'd forgotten how intimidating he could look…and he had his magic back. Likely he and Draco had come straight over from the Ministry. She paused a moment and took a deep breath and backed toward her sofa, eyes wide. The enormity of what she was doing with the next few years of her life (or possibly longer, depending on how things worked out) all seemed to hit her at once. Corban, the charming nightclub employee, who'd danced, laughed and flirted with her and listened to jazz with her, was not in evidence; the wizard who'd appeared in her flat was Yaxley, the bigoted DMLE Department Head and Death Eater who'd gone to her house to try and locate her (and her parents), the one whom she'd run from and done a Repulsion Jinx on, and who'd been the cause of that horrible months-long camping trip.

…._the sun won't swallow the sky, won't you walk away  
…statues will not cry…  
...why don't you walk away_…_why don't you walk away_…  
_..I cannot stand to see those eyes as apologies may rise, I must be strong, stay an unbeliever_…

Both her intendeds were instantly solicitous. "Harmony—are you all right?"

"Sweetheart—why don't ya sit down—"Corban put his arm around her, urging her onto the sofa, and then he knelt in front of her and kissed her hand. "Can I get ya something—ya must be tired—there's been a lot going on—"

Draco had moved toward the kitchen and said, "Do you, er, have a tea pot in here at all?"

She focused on that relatively normal statement and finally said, quietly, "I have an electric kettle and it's in my room—"

"_Accio_, er…electric kettle," Draco said, unconfidently—nevertheless, the kettle zoomed in and landed on the coffee table. "I—er, I _think_ I can figure out how to work this—"he said, picking it up in both hands.

"You put water in it and plug it in, basically—"she said, standing up, her legs shaking a bit. "I'll do it—"_Anything to get away from the lounge and the looming Death Eater_, she thought, as she walked to the kitchen and mechanically filled the kettle with water from the spigot, then sat it down on the counter, plugged it in and pulled three tea mugs out of the cabinets. She turned toward the fridge to get the milk out, wondering idly if it had gone bad, and saw Corban standing there, looking rather concerned. _Of course he followed me_, she thought, automatically reaching in her jeans pocket for her wand.

"There's something wrong; I can tell," he said.

"No—nothing's wrong—"she said, looking anywhere but at him as she sat the milk on the counter and checked the expiry date; it was just barely unspoiled.

"I am not permitted to do Legilimency—not that I would do it on ya without consent—won't ya please tell me what's wrong?"

She sat down at the kitchen table as the water heated and he sat next to her. "Did—did you just come from the Ministry?" she asked, after a long pause.

"Yes—I got me restricted wand and they lifted the block on me magic—I feel so alive right now, I was hoping when we came here that we could, er…." and he sighed, and looked straight into her eyes. "I'm fairly sure I know what the problem is—tell me if I'm right," he said, taking her hand in his. "I wasn't about to go in there wearing those Muggle clothes we wore at the club, so Draco Transfigured them to look like me old work robes. So I look like I did back then—is that it?"

"How—how do you…"

He looked at her and said, "Magic," and then smiled a bit. "We're connected, sweetheart; I swore to ya on me magic, and we've, well, we've been to bed together, and I love ye—"The kettle loudly switched off—he startled at the noise. "Can ya—will ye be able to…see me as ye did at the club? Because that wizard who you think ya see no longer exists. I don't expect you to return me feelings right away—but I want to give ye the life ye deserve. I want to share quiet days and pleasurable nights with ye, and laugh about your students…and raise our children-"

"Is everything all right in there?" Draco shouted. "_I'll give you two minutes, and then I'm coming in_!"

"I—I think I can…look past all that—it may take me a while, though, I'm—I'm sorry," she said, as she stood up and put the tea in each mug and then filled them with water, then used her wand to levitate the mugs, the sugar bowl, and the milk to the table, then sat back down.

He took her hands in his, once they'd both finished stirring the sugar into their tea. "I'm the one who needs to beg forgiveness—but I don't want to force ya to constantly relive the War, and if my very presence reminds you of that—well, then…." He sighed. "If ya no longer wish to be engaged I'll understand, and I'll take me chances with the Law—"

Draco walked through the door and saw them sitting there, his hands clasped around hers. "Harmony—what's going on?" He picked up the third tea mug and stirred sugar into it.

"I—well, I didn't expect—I thought it was just going to be you coming here, and then, well—"

Corban interjected, "And then I showed up dressed like I used to at the Ministry and carrying a wand—I suppose it could have been worse, I could have been wearing me Knights robe and mask. Of course, they stripped us of all that regalia, snapped our wands, and did Incendio on the lot once we got to Azkaban after the Battle—" He took a sip of tea.

"I wasn't there so I didn't know about that. Anyway, I can't Transfigure any of your clothes to look like that, as any reference to—that business—in public is illegal, and I doubt that law will ever change," Draco said. "I wouldn't even joke about it if I were you—"

"But they won't let me get rid of me Mark—what a bunch of hypocrites…" Corban said.

"Can we—er," Hermione began. "Could we possibly change the subject?"

"We don't ever need to talk about it again, sweetheart, if ya wish," Corban said, taking her hands in his again, and squeezing them.

"Well—I'm not sure that's exactly healthy, but I was rather hoping to start the first day of our lives together without rehashing all that—"

"I do like the sound of that, our lives together—"he said, and leaned toward her for a kiss, which she reciprocated.

"We'll just do what you suggested at the club the other night—"Hermione said. "Get in bed and figure it out as we go along—"

"I _really_ like the sound of that, especially the first part—"

"Oh good, shall we head home, once we've finished our tea, then?" Draco asked. "I, for one, am looking forward to a quiet evening…well, a few of them, actually-I've handed the reins to Theo—he'll handle things the rest of this week _and_ next weekend—"and he sipped at his tea.

There was a bit of silence as they all finished their drinks, and then Corban stood up. "While you are off with him next weekend, I'll go back to the club as well," he said, helping Hermione up from the chair.

"Here—let's get all this packed," Draco said, to which Hermione replied, "I think I'm going to give most of the kitchenware to a charity shop—I'll take care of that tomorrow when I come back to break the lease—I just need my bag for now," and she summoned it. "And I've dropped the wards," she said, as she took Draco's hand and Corban's hand.

There was a pause.

"Er—mate, none of us have been to your house yet, _other_ than you, I mean—"Draco said, as both he and Hermione stared at Corban.

"Oh, right; almost forgot," he said, with a smile, and then Disapparated them.

The house looked much the same as the picture in his room at the club, except for the bare branches of the tree standing in front of it. "Welcome to Yaxley Hall," he said, as he waved his wand at the front door, which obligingly unlocked, then swung open a bit wider. They walked up toward it and then Hermione said, "I—I think I might be hallucinating—""No, I see the same thing, it's not just you, Harmony—"Draco said.

"_Dobryy den_, Banya, Miss Granger, and Malfoy, glad you finally made it, lunch was getting cold, "said Dolohov.  
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AUTHOR'S NOTES:

YES, there will be one more chapter, an Epilogue (which will not involve the Hogwarts Express). This one ended where it ended.

Lyrics in this chapter are from "Walk Away" by Franz Ferdinand.

Draco is not wearing leather trousers, but an infinitely more practical leather blazer. I imagine it as looking something like one of the retro ones available at places like Impero Leather (Google it, if expensive leather stuff is your thang).

PurpleCaboose—as far as good old Narcissa goes…her primary loyalty is to Lucius. She got together with Corban after the failed Ministry raid while Lucius was in Azkaban; she needed some comfort while she had the world's worst houseguest (Voldie), and Lucius wasn't exactly functional even after he got out of prison. After the Final Battle, she and Lucius got back together ("you and me against the world") and she dumped Corban because he was in disgrace and it looked good, politically, to distance herself from DEs. The Marriage Law requirements involve mixing it up as much as possible, blood-wise, so two Purebloods getting together (especially those two particular ones) would be, as they say on Monty Python, "right out." (And officially, of course, Dahlia Parkinson and Justin Finch-Fletchley are the ones marrying, but an iron-clad consort agreement will be involved with the Malfoys…LOL) All that aside, Narcissa had held out hope that Corban was pining away for her (as she lives up to her name), which he wasn't…..aaaaaand now I kind of want to write this fic. If I have no success in the delusional!Dolohov arena I may go there next. (And on that note, I will do my best to make sure Hermione is not unethical.)


	28. Chapter 28

_**Chapter 28 – **__**Epilogue**_

"Tosha, how is it that ye're here?" Corban asked, once they'd all walked in the front door and he closed and locked it. The entrance hall was large, drafty, and wood-paneled, with a number of portraits on the walls, many of whom stared at the newcomers in open curiosity. Before Hermione could start to inspect them, Corban was ushering the group to a set of double doors and opening them with his wand. Although there were several large covered-up furniture items around the perimeter of the room—most likely china cabinets or similar, the table was set for four, and there were several food platters waiting on it.

"Went looking for you and you weren't in your room or in big room with the bar, so I came here. I told elves to make lunch—would put it under Stasis Charm but I don't have wand," he added.

Hermione wasn't at all pleased to be having a conversation with Dolohov, but her curiosity simply couldn't be denied. "How did you get here without a wand, Mr Dolohov?"

"Came through Floo," he replied, gesturing at the large fireplace at the opposite end of the dining room.

"Someone at the Ministry is sloppy," Corban said. "Thank Merlin that wasn't in my old department." Hermione thought the more likely culprit to be bribery or corruption, rather than incompetence, but she chose to remain silent, as Corban pulled the chair at the top left of the table out for her, and ushered her into it. He waited until everyone else had sat down, and then sat down at the head of the table and said, "Reemy?" When the elf appeared, she said, "Reemy is very glad that Master Corban is home! Master Tosha said he'd be here soon. I will bring drinks for Masters and Miss!" and then disappeared.

Hermione did her best to not look disgruntled, but both her intendeds looked at her and smirked. "What?!" she said.

"Just wondering how long it's going to be until you try to free that one, Granger," Draco said, chuckling.

Hermione sighed. "First of all, I know a bit more than I did back then and 'Master Corban' here told me that he treated the elves fairly…."

Corban laughed. "If ye're going to keep calling me that, would any of ye mind if I took her upstairs for a bit?" he finished.

"I most certainly will not," Hermione said.

"Sorry, brother, I don't think her inclinations run the same way as my parents—"Draco said.

"Do I, er, want to know more about that?" Hermione asked.

"Probably not until after lunch," Corban replied.

"There was lots of equipment at Revels," Dolohov said. _Well, at least he wasn't suggesting that we have one_, Hermione thought, _that's an improvement_. "Banya does not have any of that here, Miss Granger," he added.

"Tosha, my brother," Corban said. "I'm trying to entice my love to stay here, not scare her away, if ya don't mind." Reemy reappeared with a tray full of glasses and pitchers of various drinks, so Dolohov didn't reply.

After the drinks were served and the platters started being passed round, Draco spoke up. "So, after we finish lunch, Granger, let's look at the house—I know the first thing you'll want to see is if Corban has a library—"

"Of course I do, mate, although it's not quite as extensive as the one at your Manor—and there are two studies connected to it—I thought you might want one for your office—"he said, as he levitated the platter of chicken to Hermione.

"Oh! Thank you, and yes, please," she said. "Professor Babbling sent me an owl to congratulate me, but warned me that the Runes professor's office was small and cluttered—"

"And ye'll need an office for your Wizengamot work, as well. I'll be sending an owl about that shortly. Anyway-the office I'm thinking about has a nice big window and a fireplace—"

"Perfect!"

There was a pause, during which everyone enjoyed their food and drinks.

"As for accommodations, there are two master bedroom suites upstairs—they're connected by a private hallway—"Corban began.

"Is there a guest suite?" Draco asked.

"Well, there are two of those, but ye're not a _guest_, brother—you're our third—"

"How does that work, exactly?"Hermione asked. "I've heard both of you refer to the other as 'our third.'"

"Well," Draco began. "To you and me, Granger, Corban is our third."

"And to us, sweetheart, Draco is our third," Corban said.

"Oh! That's rather nice, and I suppose that makes sense," she said. "But—are there…other connections," she blushed. "Er—you know…" As she let her voice trail off, Draco blushed, too, and Corban cleared his throat.

"Only if they want, Miss Granger," Dolohov said. "Every marriage is different."

She nodded politely at him and muttered, "Thank you."

After a rather long pause during which the previous subject was clearly tabled for much later, Draco spoke up. "I'll take one of the guest suites and modify it—and I'll offer our vacation home in France as alternate accommodations—I should be able to make enough room for us there. That's where we'll be going next weekend, by the way, Granger—"he smiled at Hermione. "And it looks as if when we're in London we'll have to stay at the club- my father and Dahlia will be using the London house for a while. And—you know, I should really stop calling you Granger, Harmony," and he smiled at her.

"I've been meaning to ask, why do ya call her Harmony, mate?"

"I'm right here," Hermione said. "And we are quite glad of that, let me assure ya," Corban said.

"Well, the nickname came from a dear friend—"Hermione began.

"Young Goyle, aye?' Corban interjected, after he sat down his glass of water.

"Well, yes, but how did you know about that?""He spoke with me at the club—congratulated me, told me I'd better treat ye right, actually—""He said much the same to me," Draco added. "And I call you that because I quite like it, but if you don't…" "Well, I prefer it to Granger—

""That reminds me, do we want to all hyphenate our names?" Corban said. "I mean to say, I'd like my family name to continue, so I'd rather not—"

"I've thought about it a bit," Hermione said. "I think I will hyphenate my name, but to allay confusion, the children should take the names of their fathers. "

"Then you'll have a triple-barreled name?"Draco asked.

"No," and Hermione frowned. "I'll just let Granger go—I think I let go of most of my Muggle identity a while ago, anyway. This will be one more thing that my parents won't understand, but, well, they're on the other side of the world, and I only visit them once a year—"

"Where did they go, Miss Granger? Banya and I, we went to your house," Dolohov said.

Hermione stood up and sat her napkin on the table. "That's _exactly_ why they are on the other side of the world, Mr Dolohov," she snapped, staring at him. "Pardon me," she said, and started walking off, heedless of the fact that she'd not finished her food and she was unfamiliar with the layout.

Corban stood up. "Tosha—brother—don't ever mention that again—"and he dashed after her.

"I'm sorry he brought that up, sweetheart," Corban said, once he caught up with her. She had removed the cover off a small settee in the entrance hall and sat upon it, head in her hands. He knelt in front of her. "He's told me he respects ya, and that he wishes to apologise for what happened during the war. He won't hurt ya—I'll make sure of that, and I know Draco will as well—"

"It's just—why does he have to be here?"

"Well…" Corban said. "He has nowhere else to go, other than his room at the club. He did have a house, but it was confiscated during the first war, so he lived here for a bit, after he got out of Azkaban, and during the second war. So he's used to being here—"

"I was afraid of that—"

"Ye might not have chosen me if ye'd known, right?" Corban looked up at her.

"It's just—I still drink that potion because of him," she said.

"The purple one?" Corban asked. "I've been wantin' to ask ye about that; at first I thought it might be a contraceptive, but then ye said you go to St Mungo's—"

"I've cancelled that appointment series, by the way—"

He smiled at her. "I'm very much looking forward to—er, satisfying that requirement with ye—"

Draco came out into the hall. "I've done an Incarcerous but I'm not sure how long it's going to last—"

"Is there—I mean, while we're living here, at least in the beginning, if you could ask him, please, to just stay at the club? I'll be at school mostly during the week—"

Dolohov appeared behind Draco. "I do not wish to upset you, Miss Granger. I will stay at the club until you tell me it is all right to come back to Banya's house."

Draco growled, examined his wand closely, pointed it at the floor, and shot off red sparks. "Sorry, young Malfoy," he added.

"Friends, let's all just go back in there for now—I didn't quite finish me lunch, and I looked under one of those platters and saw that Reemy made a chocolate cake, and I truly can't wait to have some—" Corban said, as he stood up, assisted Hermione in getting up, and then took her arm.

"Will it be better than your doughnuts, though?" Draco asked.

"Although not much compares to those doughnuts, brother, I love being home more."

* * *

A year later, Draco paced back and forth in the hallway connecting Yaxley Hall's master bedrooms. Nobody had cast any Silencing Charms, so there were lots of noises emanating from the second bedroom.

Abruptly, Corban burst through the door and began stalking down the hallway in Draco's direction, slamming the door behind him with his wand. "She just told me she loathes me and that she was never sleeping with me again, _and_ she was going to cut me hair off like that Weasley chap did, and hex me bollocks off as well, _twice_!" he growled. "I'm not going back in there until it's over—I'm going to lock meself in me study and get very, very drunk-"

"Sorry, mate—"Draco said. "Next time 'round it'll be my turn—"He paused, as another loud scream emanated through the hallway. He clapped Corban on the shoulder. "Let's _both_ go down there, I'll get us some coffee—"

As the two wizards turned and started to head down the stairs, the door opened, and the midwife poked her head out. "Mr Yaxley, she's asking for you—"

He turned, scowled, and said, "She bloody well just told me to fuck off!"

"Yes, it's usually like that, but you'll want to come and meet your son—"

"Son?" Corban said, grabbing Draco's arm. "Did ye hear that, brother?" He turned and started dragging Draco back toward the room. "Of course I heard, I couldn't be more thrilled-"They returned to the room together, where Hermione held the baby in her arms.

"Harmony, this is the point at which you suggest any name—_other_ than Cantakerus—" Draco said, and they all laughed.

"I—I thought perhaps we might give him your name, Corban," she said, and he looked amazed. "Except I'm not fond of my second name—"he said. "What about Granger for his second name?" Hermione beamed.

"I knew this would all work out for the best," Draco said. "So—ready to get started on our next little Ministry requirement?"

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AUTHOR'S NOTES:

That's all, folks. Hope it wasn't too soppy at the end, and I truly hope you enjoyed it. Let me know what you think—bearing in mind that it wasn't to be taken entirely seriously, of course.

I've started a new fic called "The Ludovico Technique" that will (eventually) feature a Hermione/Antonin pairing.


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